Spanish Eyes, English Words

It's not often I allow guest posts on my blog, but sometimes other people can tell it better than I can. It's been a pretty traumatic time at Piddock Place, because Paddy dashed in front of a car recently, and we all thought he'd had it. After a sickening thud on impact, he flew through the air, and landed on his side. It seemed his luck had run out, but after a few seconds, he jumped up and ran into the woods. We all thought it was a last gasp, adrenaline-fuelled effort to get to a place of safety to die, so we were absolutely delighted when, after about 20 minutes, he came running back out of the woods.

Being an intelligent dog, and perhaps realising how lucky he is, Paddy wanted to tell the story in his own words, so here's his take on the day when he did an impression of James Bond's Martini, and was shaken, rather than stirred. The photos in the post were taken just 24 hours after the incident, amazingly. However, it's over to Paddy for now, and please ignore the bit about the vodka!

"When Mummy said how many people had been worried about me when I fought a car and lost, I thought I needed to set the record straight. I love my Mummy, but she exaggerates sometimes, and gets in a bit of a state. I've been told people get like that when they're old, but don't tell her I said that, or I might be wishing that car had sent me to the Rainbow Bridge. Mummy can get stroppy when she's angry, especially when she's been at the vodka, and she's given the Russian Standard a right hammering just lately.

The true story - from the horse's mouth - or rather from my mouth, is that it was all Mummy's fault. Instead of taking Gizmo and I to the orange groves for our daily run, she said it would be too wet and muddy after the rain, and as she'd just been for a meal with Uncle Jim and Aunty Joan, she didn't want to get her best boots mucky. So she and Aunty Glenys decided to take us up to the Ermita in Algorfa. That was also muddy, but not as bad as the orange groves, and Gizmo and I were perfectly happy with that. As long as we get a good run off the lead, we're not too fussy where we go.

Anyway, this rather tasty looking lady dog was making puppy eyes at me from across the road, so I went over to say hello. Mummy shouted 'Paddy, come here,' but she's always spoiling my fun, so I just ignored her. That was a bit of a bad move on my part, because she wasn't trying to keep me away from the lovely lady dog - she'd seen what I hadn't, because love is blind. A silver Peugeot was making its way to Algorfa, and it must have been dead set on preserving my virginity, because it swept me off my feet - literally!

My first thought was that I was a goner, and I was waiting for Saint Peter to open the Pearly Gates for me, because despite what Mummy and Daddy say, I'm a very good boy - well most of the time. When I realised I was still breathing, my next thought was Mummy is going to finish what the car started, because I'd been a naughty boy and defied her, so I cleared off into the woods to give her time to realise just how precious I was to her.

I think I overcooked it a bit though, because when I came back, Mummy was all upset, and convinced I'd gone off to die. Honestly, that's quite an insult to a big strong boy like me. It takes more than a car to take me out, and she should know that. However, I was quite gratified that there was a search party looking for me, so I trotted up to Aunty Glenys and let her put my lead on - just in case Mummy's relief turned to revenge. You can never tell with humans, can you?

We got safely home, and instead of taking me straight in and making a fuss of me, Mummy just had to go and tell half the neighbourhood what had happened, leaving me in the car like a spare part. To add insult to injury, one of the local cats was parading up and down the street. I bet the nasty piece of work thought I couldn't chase her after the accident, but as soon as Mummy opened the car door, I proved her wrong.

Unfortunately, Mummy got in the way, and ended up on the tarmac. Honestly, you'd have thought she'd be grateful that I had made such a miraculous recovery, but no, I was in the dog house, yet again. I'll never work out how humans tick, if I live to be a hundred.

Sunday was a bit of a rough night, because I couldn't get comfy, but Mummy was so good, she even put her pillow at the bottom of the bed, because I couldn't manage to get to where she was, and she could tell I really needed cuddles, as I was quite frightened. Don't let on to anybody though, or it will ruin my street cred. I market myself as a big, strong, indestructible Super Pup, so let's keep it that way, shall we?

Anyway, all the best stories have a happy ending, and Aunty Glenys thought a nice run on La Mata Beach and a swim in the sea would help heal the grazes and prevent any infections. I have to admit I went a bit over the top, because I really am glad to be alive. I managed to knock Gizmo over a couple of times, and as usual, he laid it on with a trowel and acted like it was him who had almost died. He's such a diva, but he's okay really, and he lets me play with his toys, so I'll put up with him for now.

There is a downside to all this though. Mummy is blaming herself - although Aunty Glenys is saying it's my fault. That's rather unjust, because if Mummy hadn't been so worried about her boots, and that lady dog hadn't been giving me the come-on, I wouldn't have had the flying lesson from the car.

So now, Mummy says I have to do exactly what she says, and not pull, or run off, or get excited, or any of the things that make life worth living. As soon as I try to get in front of her, she makes me sit until she says I can go. That's torture when you can see the sea, but she said if I didn't behave, I'd go straight back to the car. And she's shouting like I'm on another planet, although she does say 'Good boy' and give me a lovely cuddle when I do what she wants me to.

So, big thanks to everyone for being so nice, and looking after Mummy when she was so worried about me. But please - tell her to go easy on me now. The thing is, she says she couldn't imagine life without me, and I feel exactly the same. I won't admit it to her - and please don't tell her I said so - but I was really sad at the thought that I'd have to leave her. I know I was a silly boy, and I will try even harder to be good. The trouble is, life is so exciting, and then I forget all my training.

Read more about Paddy's life in Spain - and mine - at Sandra in Spain.com

Apologies to those regular readers who have been looking out for my year-end roundup for the last three weeks, but things have been rather hectic at Piddock Place of late. We ended 2017 with an occupancy rate of four adults and two dogs, instead of the usual two adults and Paddy. My friend Glenys is over for the winter, with her dog Gizmo, and another friend - Karen - has been staying with us until she could organise her return to England. I've not been too well lately, so it's all got a bit on top of me, and I've lost my creativity a little. However, I've now given myself a boot up the bum, and I'm back writing.

New readers who might wonder at the title may want to check out my previous Red Knicker Reports for 2014, 2015 and 2016 before reading on, to see how they came into existence, but if you can't be bothered, it's a review of my year - the good, the bad, and the ugly. So, how did it go? Read on, dear reader, and prepare to laugh a bit and maybe feel a twinge or two of sympathy along the way.

The year started well in the company of Glenys, Gizmo, Larry and June, who had come over from the UK for the winter. Together, we all explored the area, and did a few trips in our motor homes with MCC in Spain. We also managed to arrange a surprise birthday party for Glenys - no mean feat when she was only staying 200 yards up the road from us! We rustled up about 18 of our friends, and managed to smuggle them in without her knowledge. I've also managed to pull a surprise 75th birthday party for her this month, but as she's now staying with us, we held it at the Camping Florantilles Show Bar.

I first met Martin and the fantastic team at Camping Florantilles when Glenys and I went to a charity poolside jam session there in June. Glenys was driving, so I overdosed a little on the vodka, to the extent that when we got home, instead of doing the promised barbecue, I crashed out on the sofa for several hours. I don't remember much about that visit, but I was allowed back again, so I can't have been too naughty. When we returned from our summer trip to England, I started going to their Wednesday afternoon poolside jams, and notched up another first for me. I'm a bit of a Karaoke Diva, as most of my friends know, but I've never sung with a live band. At the grand old age of 65, I finally did it.

Talking about being 65, when Tony asked me what I wanted for my birthday, I couldn't think of anything. Well, I could, but apparently a ticket for the Widow's Cruise around the Mediterranean wasn't the answer he anticipated! So I had a rethink and decided that I'd rather celebrate my special day with all my favourite people, and organised a party at the Centro Rural de Algorfa for around 40 friends. It was a very special night, with music from Peter Taylor, one of Mike's special chillis, and a beautiful bouquet from Tony, who by then had forgiven the Widow's Cruise comment.

Another first was going to the UK premiere of The Cucaracha Club. If you paid attention to the blog posts, you'll know that I'm involved with publicising the film, and helping to raise awareness of the wonderful job a group of local expats have done in making a feature film that showcased the area on a tight budget. In a whistlestop visit to Darlington, I had a wonderful experience, and an encounter with a mad Irishman. You can read all about it here.

Back from Darlington, and back to reality, we had a worrying couple of months when Tony was quite poorly. It culminated in collapse on a motor home rally in the Sierra Maria mountains in June, and as Tony refused point blank to see a doctor in Spain - despite the fantastic level of health care here - I brought forward our summer trip to the UK.

Tony was diagnosed with cirrhosis of the liver a week after we put down the deposit on our home in Spain, and he was warned he had less than a year to live unless he stopped drinking. 10 years on, he's still going strong, but initial investigations pointed towards bone marrow cancer, or myeloma to give it its posh name. Thankfully, it wasn't that, but there was a significant deterioration in liver function, and again, we're on the One Year Warning. At 84, Tony feels he's lived his life, and wants to enjoy what's left of it, which means he's not keen on following medical advice.

Obviously it's his body and his choice, but that bombshell, combined with a cold, wet UK summer which rendered me housebound - or more accurately caravan-bound - for several weeks, and a Poorly Paddy as a result of a severe ear infection, all took their toll. I racked up another first, but one I'd rather have missed out on. I came so close to a mental breakdown, that for the first time in my life, I find myself taking antidepressants, as well as the shedload of medication I already take to control the Lupus and my blood pressure. I have to sit very still for a while after taking my tablets, otherwise I rattle when I walk and get some very funny looks. I'm getting back to me again though, although I'll be popping the happy pills for a while yet.

On the professional front, I've stepped back a bit from the writing for several reasons. Tony's been out of sorts for most of the year, and my almost breakdown made me realise I have to take more time for myself, so I've kept my hand in, but basically given more time to me. However, I did rack up another first - my first-ever writers' conference at Velez Blanco, hosted by my good friends Elle and Alan, who are fellow members of Writers and Bloggers About Spain, a supportive and creative Facebook group. We got a dog sitter, and Tony came along for the ride, but finished up participating in the whole programme and getting an idea of what I do and why.

Talking of 'Me Time,' I've expanded on my tentative forays into the world of psychic development. I've been working with the lovely Alison Wynne-Ryder through the year, and have learned a lot about myself and my psychic abilities. To coin a well-known movie tag line, 'I see dead people,' but I've also discovered I have a natural ability for clairvoyance, clairaudience and spiritual healing. Alison has opened up a whole new world for me, and I look forward to seeing where this takes me in 2018. Meditation is at the core of all things spiritual, and this has helped me to deal with what 2017 has thrown at me. I'm calmer, happier, and more emotionally resilient as a result.

One thing I have realised is that I need to get rid of the negative influences around me, and I made the difficult decision to sever some long-standing connections, because I realised they were emotionally draining, and I didn't need the associated drama. I'm happier as a result, and although 2017 has been a difficult year, with no real progress in the achievement of my long standing goals, I'm optimistic about what 2018 has in store for me. Let's hope the new red knickers (bought in Sainsburys with 25% off the normal price) can work their magic. Find out next year!

Read more of my ramblings at Sandra in Spain.com