Part 10: Timetables

When we finally got home from our New Year’s Eve escapade at about half past two in the morning, I, for one, was ready for bed. It was at this time, that I finally realised that I will never get to grips with the local timetable. As we were entering our house a group of revellers appeared and almost physically dragged us back out onto the street, where all manner of booze was being consumed on the march to the house of somebody or other. In typically cowardly fashion, I made my excuses and headed for bed, leaving Cheryl and our friends to try to recapture some of the festive air that had been so sorely missing from our celebrations to that point.

As I said, I am sure that my own personal timetable will never tally with the one that prevails locally. We generally get up at about half past seven, and have a small breakfast. This means that at roughly one o’clock, I am, to put it mildly, ready for something to eat. Lunch at one o’clock seems like a reasonable thing to me. But what happens is that after lunch, I usually have a siesta from about half past one until approximately half past two. What then happens is that friends who are concluding their morning’s business ring up just as I am finally nodding off at about two. They, of course, have lunch at three and begin their siestas at about half past three, when nobody, but nobody in their right mind, would ever dream of ringing anybody, much less knocking on their door in the hope of actually seeing them. It is perfectly fine to knock on somebody’s door at one AM, but to do so at four PM is clearly the act of a madman.

And many are the days when I have got up early, driven the ten miles into Mérida, parked the car and walked into the centre in order to get a head start on any number of mundane tasks, only to realise for the Nth time, that it is still only half past nine, and nothing will be open for at least another half an hour.

People say they will deliver things in the morning. So I get up early, thinking that eight o’clock is a perfectly serviceable part of the morning for delivering gas bottles or items of furniture, only to discover that the morning in question is that part of the day that starts at 12.00 hours and finishes at 14.30 hours. And recent experiences with deliveries have only served to muddy the waters still further. In the little academy we have just set up, we arranged for somebody to come round and mount the obligatory fire extinguisher on the wall of one of the classrooms. The company had said that they would send somebody round at six o´clock, and at six o´clock on the dot the doorbell rang, and our business was concluded at thirteen minutes past the hour. However, as Christmas is once again on the horizon, it only serves as a reminder that the blacksmiths who were going to replace the steel doors at the rear of the house, in time for last Christmas, are a tad late, the doors in question now hanging on by a combination of rust and will power.

We have just enjoyed the village fiestas for what was our second time. Last year the celebratory fireworks to mark the start of the festivities went off at midnight. This year, perhaps to encourage the foreign contingent (that´s us), they went off at half past ten, and the band started to play shortly thereafter. No change to the finishing time though, it was still gone half past four in the morning before anybody got any sleep.

Articles in the series:

Introduction to Pete's Tale

Part 1: Village Life

Part 2: Bichos

Part 3: A Two-Bar Town

Part 4: Fruit and Veg

Part 5: Summer

Part 6: Politics

Part 7: Noise

Part 8: Our natural park

Part 9: New Year's Eve

Part 10: Timetables

Part 11: The Land Where the Pig is King

Part 12: How Not to Buy a House

Part 13: That First Winter

Part 14: The Extremeño Spring

Part 15: To be a Pilgrim

Part 16: A Change is Coming

Part 17: Wine Talk

Part 18: Free For All

Part 19: How Do You Spell Asparagus?

Part 20: Designer Peas