A cow and a fold up umbrella

 If there's one iconic memory which comes to mind everytime it rains or I go to collect my umbrella just in case, it's the Ale Hop cow.

It started out as a beautiful day, and by 09:30 temperatures were already moving into the 80s . I knew it was going to be a lovely one for the beach but checking my phone, I noted thunderstorms were possible later that afternoon. 

I fancied a walk first and that much-needed coffee, so wandered down to the small Ale Hop outlet not far from where I was staying and picked up one of their folding umbrellas for €8 and returned to the beach via a lovely little café for a much needed shot of caffeine.

So beach, setup, strip off, swim, stand and drip for a while and then doze in the increasingly hazy sunshine. I patted my bag knowing the recent purchase would probably be in use very shortly. I hadn't reckoned on just heavily the rain would fall, however.

Suddenly, I became aware the seagulls had quieted and the sea itself had calmed, almost muted in its waves. Opening my eyes to this change in Nature's reaction,  I looked back toward the mountains and watched thick,  black clouds rolling down towards the sea.

I'd spotted it before many other sun worshippers and they watched somewhat bemused by my springing into action; top clothes back on, pack the towel and beach wear away, take out the umbrella and walk quickly back up the beach. 

Within minutes of me stepping onto the pavement the heavens opened and we were presented with a truly tropical storm. Rain fell like curtains and the paths were like rivers within minutes. Water cascaded onto the beach and turned the hot, black sands into a soggy mud, clogging wheels on children's buggies.

I watched, brollie already up, as the people who'd stared at me moments before, scrambled to gather their stuff, throwing wet, sandy towels into bags, top clothes wet, children crying, buggies stuck, people laden with "stuff" too wet to do anything with. 

All scrambling up the beach attempting to move against the soggy landslide of sand as they sunk into it. Children screaming, people fighting to get everything up a narrow flight of steps, getting stuck, getting soaked, children crying louder as they are now wet through and getting cold.....mothers shouting, fathers yelling, hunting for car keys. Boots opening, belongings thrown in, doors opening and screaming, crying children pushed inside, still in beachwear with black sandy feet and hands. Inwardly I grinned.

Today, I packed the brollie into my bag and remembered; that was last year.....what a different year that was.

A cartoon with many memories

When I was travelling alone to the flat in Torreblanca I relied on the television for company in the evenings.

Most of it was in Spanish and I desperately wanted light relief from feeling lonely and feeling overheated. It was a big flat and was on the top floor of a block mainly occupied by Spanish families with a few flats still in the hands of UK residents who would come over for 3 or 4 months at a time. I was fortunate as the two flats on the same floor as me were invariably empty when I came. The families had children and were in the UK enjoying term time, rather than on holiday, so the place was eerily quiet.

Very little of the TV was in English as I said but there were two channels I loved; it didn't matter I didn't understand the words, I could follow it like a toddler, by watching the action in the cartoons.

 

Since the old lady who owned the flat died, I've not been back and I'm not even sure the family still own the property, but when I came across this cartoon, memories of the flat came flooding back.

Some of them were good, the beach only a matter of 5 minutes away, the corner shop where I was able to get my immediate needs and the supermarket, along the sea front, where I could get a bus back with a full load of shopping to see me through the week. 

Catching the bus, remembering the adage 'Number 1 is not the one',  up to the shopping centre on the outskirts of town and wandering down by the river to another beach which never seemed to be as crowded as those closer into town.

I remember sitting watching a cartoon and being aware of a cockroach with hobnailed boots running across the living room floor and taking ages to be caught and killed. Cleaning out the kitchen because a plague of ants had come up the pipework under the sink. The awful smell of sewers because the heat of the day had evaporated the water in the toilet traps, sink traps or bath and allowed the smell to seep back.

I remember the ability to go out when I wanted and sit on the balcony all day if  wished. The very efficient air con throughout the house and having to empty the big water containers and send the excess water down the sinks, toilets and bath.

I remember the frogs croaking into the night in the creek which ran down the side of the block and looking out on a lovely pool, surrounded by bougainvillea, Seville orange and oleander trees.

I watched an Olympics out there, a major athletics competition and numerous other high level sporting events, all in German or Spanish.

It was a beautiful flat and I have many really good memories of being out there; all brought back because I saw a cartoon on the Freeview channel, YAAS  for the under fives.