We are missing Pottery Throwdown on a Sunday evening. It has been a gentle hour watching potters turn a lump of clay into something meaningful and beautiful.

One of their challenges was to make a light with white porcelain and black clay. Two contestants made sculptures depicting their fight with mental health. One guy couldn't speak as he sculpted the clay to depict the death of a friend two weeks after she gave birth. The light clay depicted the joy the baby gave, in a very sad and dark time. I was in awe of one lady who had battled with double breast cancer for years. As she was moulding and shaping her clay, she explained she was waiting on yet another biopsy. She made an ugly malignant cancer cell from the black clay, and let the beauty of the light wash over it. I sobbed when she took her light up for judging and said how her results had come back that week negative. That definitely deserved a Sunday night glass of wine! I think we love the programme because unlike programmes like 'Bake Off' where the contestants can be so competitive, in this show they are so complimentary about each other and their make. We call them 'gentle souls' who share so much of themselves in their creations.

In the last few weeks we have met some lovely gentle people. We had a great day in York on a biting cold day. After walking down by the river, we got warm in a lovely Italian Restaurant. On the way back to the car we met a homeless man who had wrapped his Staffordshire bull terrier in his blanket to keep warm. I gave him some money and knelt down to have a chat and to stroke his dog who was adorable. I asked if he needed more money to get a hostel for the night. He told me that he already had the money but was waiting to see if they had a bed where he could take his dog. There are only 3 hostels in the city where a dog is allowed in. He said he would rather sleep on the streets in the cold, than abandon his dog. He had found him when he was a pup, and four years later, he said it was the dog that kept him going.

On our morning walks through the village, we often meet a lovely lady who is in her late nineties. She pushes a trolley which doubles as a seat and on dry days she sits and strokes the dogs whilst enjoying a chat. She is lonely without family nearby, her husband and two sons died young and she loves telling stories about them. I am a sucker for stories and enjoy listening. They met in their teens in Portsmouth. Her father was in the Navy and she fell in love with a young marine. They married a few weeks before he went off to fight in the Korean War, and didn't see him again for 3 years. However it was a true love story and every morning I look out for her ready to hear the next instalment.

We have plenty of markets round by us, and each Saturday come rain or shine the fruit and veg men set up their stall in Malton. They must be well over retirement age and I have noticed that they always take their special needs brother who must be over sixty. He never serves but enjoys polishing the apples and lemons and as soon as you have taken something, he rushes to the back of the van to replace it. I just love the fact that he is part of the family, and given a role to fulfil. He isn't cut slack either, if he hasn't replaced something... he is told off just like the rest!

It is lovely living so close to the sea, and mid week when it is quiet we enjoy walking long the pier at Whitby. When I went with mom and Henry we decided to have chips and donuts as a real treat on the sea front. I went into the famous Magpie chip shop where everything is made to order. The lady serving took the order from a teenage lad and his girlfriend in front of me. He asked politely if they could have kids portions as he was saving up for his first car and was waiting for pay day. When she gave him his order and he went to pay, she quickly said " I forgot to put it through the till, they are on me! Just remember me when you have your car and see me walking on a rainy day".

Back in February we went to North Allerton, a market village on Valentine's Day. Jules and I separated as he wanted to go to the art shop. I waited at our rendezvous point, and was given a single red rose. The local church were giving out red roses to anyone by themselves on Valentines Day, with a message saying 'you are loved'. I have to say I thought it was so nice, and it certainly put a smile on my face.

So we have enjoyed our time in Yorkshire, but are now getting ready to go on our travels. Happy Easter!

I hope that over the festive period lots of you watched The Hairy Bikers “Coming Home for Christmas Special”. They promised to give ‘a glorious celebration of life’ as they dished up a special festive feast as a thank you to those who have cared for Dave during his cancer diagnosis. We sat there in tears watching the very nurses that have cared for me over the last 12 years, care for him. It was a very honest programme, depicting the highs and lows of cancer treatment but above all his zest for life.

2023 started with the realisation that my body could not hold the cancer cells at bay any longer(for the third time in twelve years) and that I needed to start a twice daily chemotherapy regime. We needed time to think about it, as it took a while to get our heads round the fact that this treatment is for life rather than for a fixed duration. The treatment stops the cancer cells from forming, but also knocks out some of the good ones. So the risk of infection and hospitalisation is high. It was made clear to me that the only real safe place for me would be ‘to stay in your living room’. So we are now in a cycle of a daily pot of tablets, regular blood tests, scans, visits to the hospital and monthly oncology appointments. My latest blood results get seared on my brain, and we are always hoping the next lot will be as good. We try to take it in our stride and adjust life accordingly and my oncologist supported our desire to get back to the boat and on with life as soon as we could. We stay away from busy places due to the risk of infection, continue to wear masks, live a very ‘outdoor lifestyle’ and we have to check people are free from colds and Covid before seeing them. Next month I have to have a tooth extracted as my teeth are weakened from all the chemotherapy. Such a basic procedure has to be done at the hospital due to risks. I have to stop chemo for a week before hand as it thins the blood and the hospital will keep me in for a while as my previous treatment may mean that my jaw doesn’t heal.

Because of this we both have an incredible zest for life and a desire to enjoy every minute. We started 2024 determined to walk over 2000 miles in the year again. This means an average of 170 miles per month. The weather has been particularly wet and very muddy but we have averaged 20,000 steps most days and have seen some great rainbows and lots of deer in the water logged fields. I met up with an old colleague and friend just after Christmas. We chatted away and let the dogs run wild in the mud which was great fun even though I ended up on my bum! This week Jules and I walked at Whitby. We were enjoying a naughty bag of chips in the band stand, (sheltering from the wind), when Patch pulled on the lead after a seagull. The chips went everywhere, but at least the seagulls got a good lunch! We have walked along the beach at Scarborough, where Patch pigged out on freshly made donuts. He made sure the seagulls who were circling overhead didn’t get a single crumb. He has a very sweet tooth. We always take the funicular railway back to the town as there is something so wonderful about the Victorian carriages. We had a nice but extremely cold walk around York where we stopped at our favourite Sardinian restaurant for lunch. It was rather spoilt by a posh couple on the next table discussing job options as he was finding office politics hard to deal with. She suggested he take the government £25,000 grant and retrain as a teacher as it must be ‘such an easy job’. I had to restrain myself from leaning over and saying ‘if you struggle with office politics mate, the kids will eat you alive’. At the weekend we visited James Herriot country and drove through Thirsk and on to Northallerton. They had a wonderful outdoor market and it was great to see so many fresh fruit and veg stalls selling local produce and a great fish van which even sold octopus tentacles.

We have got into a morning routine of sauna followed by ice tub. Last week we had a light dusting of frost. Plunging into a tub of water that had sat outside all night led to a few expletives and a lot of shouting and heavy breathing. I swear my feet didn’t warm up all day. However, it is amazing how good it makes you feel afterwards. The log fires have been on everyday, and after a long walk it has been nice to enjoy a hot Epsom salt bath followed by cuddles on the settee with Patch and Bertie and a good murder mystery. Today we had snow, so the 25,000 steps in the forest seemed effortless. It was breathtaking.

My family had colds after Christmas, so we cancelled a few things, but we had a brilliant evening with them last week. We share ‘tacky’ Christmas pressies which is such a hoot! We bought Henry a whoopy cushion which he loved. He laughed so much at the sound and when we asked if it was him, he said no and pointed to his Grandma. The more she denied it, the more he pointed and the more we giggled.

Jules has taken up his paint brush once more, and has been inspired by our friends Ian and Martyn to have a go at portraits. At the moment he is getting very excited about ears! I have taken up different crafts - I have made wax wrappers for the kitchen, body scrubs and lotions. I had lots of Mediterranean cookbooks for Christmas and a pasta maker. The kitchen is permanently covered in flour as Jules and I perfect spaghetti and fettuccine. I have also become a bit of a whizz beetroot and date brownies, but I do have very red hands all the time!

So even a wet, muddy, yet ‘dry’ January has not dampened our zest for life. Our brand new little blue passports have arrived, and we are busily planning our sailing year. Happy 2024!

One of the main reasons we love travel is to see differences in culture, and I think celebrations like Christmas highlight many of them.

On the way through Spain, we stopped for a cup of coffee in a little town near the windmills in La Mancha. We sat in the square on a busy Sunday and watched about 300 children parade out of the church with their Sunday School teachers. Every child in the village must have been there. They carried a little satchel with their Sunday School books inside, apart from a few mischievous boys who were throwing their books high in the air and catching them. I was bought up going to a Methodist Sunday school and loved my Sunday school teacher. She would turn up in a fur coat, smelling of rich perfume and her make up and hair was always immaculate. Sunday school meant I did not have to sit through the church service, but got to chill out in the school room with my friend Fiona, and enjoy making things and chatting. It is strange that those traditions have died out for most people in the UK, yet here in Spain they are still thriving. When they get older, the kids join brotherhoods and so the tradition is passed down through the generations. Belonging to a brotherhood is a badge of honour, rather like an ASBO is in Brierley Hill.

The Christmas tree isn't as popular in Spain as the UK. They are becoming more common and are decorated around the middle of December. Underneath the tree there is a space for presents ready for the Three Wise Men, who arrive on the 6th of January rather than for Santa on Christmas Day. Instead, each village and home has a Belen, or Bethlehem scene. They don't just have a few figures round a manger but the whole village of Bethlehem and more besides. In cities like Granada different businesses and churches host a Belen scene, which are huge and take up a whole window display, church entrance or special tent. The details are phenomenal. There will be a baker baking bread, the shepherds with a little fire in the hills, the butcher slaughtering meat and so on. In fact the stable scene is often not the most prominent part, but pushed towards the back in a small part of the town, to represent no room in the town itself. One Belen we saw even had a history showing Egyptian pyramids, Hannibal and the elephants and Roman gladiators in an arena.

Some of the squares in Granada are full of people selling different nativity figures for people's nativity scenes at home. They are bought in the way we would buy different tree decorations each year. Bizarrely, in Catalonia and now in other parts of Spain each village has a figurine of a person pooping. He is always hidden somewhere and children have a competition to be the first to find him. He is called El Cagener, literally meaning 'the crapper'. The most popular crapper features a male peasant in a red cap crouched with his trousers down and bottom exposed and a little brown pile at his feet. However, there are shepherds, bakers and now famous celebrities who have their face and poop on a little crapper! No one knows how this 200 year tradition came about. One of the theories is that poop has been used as a fertiliser and by plopping a pooper in the scene, farmers gain favour with God and will have a good crop. Others believe that Jesus became human to save people from their sins and the pooping statue is a reminder of the most basic needs of humanity. Whatever, it makes us smile.

We wondered why everywhere was really busy on 8th December and found out it was The Feast of the Immaculate conception. ( The miraculous conception of Mary). It is a public holiday which marks the beginning of Christmas. We were in Granada for the day and enjoyed the family feeling in the streets. The churches were packed, incense hung in the air and people were queuing to kiss the hand of statues of Mary. The restaurants were a little like Bethlehem ('no room at the inn',) but we managed to find one in a beautiful square where we could enjoy the sun on our faces and watch the people of Granada file into church to kiss the graven image. Children raced around finding the various Nativity scenes and there was a lot of dancing and singing. The Spanish are a very loud race, and on festive days they make a lot of noise and drink a lot of wine. There were men playing flamenco music in each square and ladies with fat bottoms dancing and playing tambourines.

The 8th of December is also the start of Christmas shopping for many Spaniards. It is a long bank holiday weekend , and after ascending to the hill villages for long walks they then hit the shops in a big way. The atmosphere was fantastic fun, and there were a lot of deals and offers. Many of the shops gave away free sweets and poinsettias, and we are now the proud owners of three!!! Sugared fruit, marzipan sweets and lard cakes are big treats to be bought over Christmas. I am sure that my nan would have loved the cakes made with lard. She always made her mince pie pastry with it and they tasted delicious!!

Having been to many places on the run up to Christmas, like America and Russia, I can truly say Spain is up there on decorations. Our little village of Thornton le Dale had their great 'Christmas light switch on' a few weeks ago, and quite frankly the marina we are in here has more lights than that! The big cities not only have Christmas street lights everywhere, but they have light shows, where the lights are switched on and off in different sequences to the sound of Christmas Carols. We enjoyed a magnificent night in Granada, but were told that Malaga was simply the best. We were blown away by their "Kingdom of the Christmas Angels" display in the centre of the city. There was a boulevard of angels in the main shopping square, which looked amazing and glittery in the dark, but when lit up to music they were fantastic. This year 500 plazas and streets in the city are full of illuminations.

Another big difference is that Kings Day on January 7th is the big day for giving presents rather than on the Christmas day. We have been told that in Catalonia families put a "Cago Tio" (defecating log) in their home on 8th of December. It is a painted log on sticks, with a painted face and hat. They give it a blanket to keep warm and 'feed' it with nuts, fruit and water. On Christmas Day the family sing songs and hit the log with a stick to help it 'drop a turd' and push out sweets, nuts, dried fruit and small presents for the children. The presents are pooped out under the blanket that kept the log warm and the adults peek under the blanket to see if the tio has had a lovely bowel movement. They know it has finished when an onion, clove of garlic or smelly fish plops out. Here is a little song that they sing to the log. Perhaps it scans better in Catalan.
Shit log,
Shit nougats,
Hazelnuts and mató cheese,
If you don't shit well,
I'll hit you with a stick,
Shit log, shit.

Yorkshire was fun, especially Henry time. He thinks we are the dogs out of Paw Patrol and adores us. He has learnt to throw our ball for us and we have learnt to expect a lot of treats. We have had some great walks and mom had excellent blood results. Her red cells are not being made too big anymore and her oncologist has cancelled the tests for secondary cancer.

However three things happened in the last month - firstly, the gear box needs fixing on the boat, and the Spanish price to fix it is too expensive. Secondly, Mom is sick of the UK weather. She has to be careful with her dodgy immune system and with the wet weather restaurants, cafes and shops have been very busy and full of condensation. Thirdly and most importantly, I have had a hair cut and am bloody freezing. So we decided to make a mad dash away for a month to the heat of Spain and back to outdoor living.

We started our road trip in the Midlands to see family and friends before Christmas. We enjoyed going to Uncle James’ and Auntie Deb’s house. They have a cat with folded up ears. Bertie did not recognise her as a cat and lay beside her licking her ears all night. She didn’t seem to mind. Mom and her brother had a right old laugh and he did the same thing as he has done for 53 years. Licked his lips and chased her around the room trying to plant a wet kiss on her cheek. Mom said as he is now getting on (closer to 60 than 50) he should slow down and think about his heart! The next day Uncle Ian offered to take us for a walk, but Dad spent too long admiring his artwork and we ran out of time. Sue and Colin had us round for tea. We had roast chicken and Mom had her first G&T in months. I loved Sue and Colin as they fell in love with Bertie and I was hoping they might apply for adoption and leave me as an only child once more. I know mom misses her friends and family in the Midlands, but she enjoyed seeing lots of them. We were fed up that we didn’t get to see Logi, Molly and Cassie as we do like meeting up with our Black Country pals.

Our next stop was Calais for the night. We walked into town to discover a big French Christmas market was on. We all got very excited… Mom about the sparkly lights, Dad about the mulled wine, Bertie about the French girls and me about the hot sugary crepes. Bertie had his photo taken as an elf. We missed Henry as it would have been an excuse for mom to go on the carousel. It was a brilliant atmosphere and we were sad to leave and go onto the restaurant. We were welcomed in by a mad woman. All night long she kept coming over to talk to us and disturb our sleep. You would have thought as the owner she could have bought a piece of steak! The next morning we headed out for a walk on the beach and saw the Calais dragon fast asleep in his covered house. Bertie swears he winked at him as he went past, but he is prone to exaggerating, a bit like mom! Before we headed off in the car we went to a cafe for coffee and crossiants. I love a buttery, slightly warm, crispy on the outside and doughy in the middle croissants and these were just right. I ate a whole one to myself, but much to my dismay, Bertie has decided he likes them too… I shall not be sharing mine.

We had a long drive to a restored and converted abbey in the Loire region of France. We stayed here a month ago and Mom loves it. They make handmade soaps, and so the place smells lovely. The first thing Mom did was visit the gift shop. The lady in the shop gave Mom 10 newly made fern soaps as a gift. They need to be put in a clothes drawer until they are harder and are ready to use in a few months time. I probably shouldn’t write this, but even Dad likes the smell (he gags at the smell of Lush) and they had a bit of an argument over how many she would let him have in his knicker drawer. We said because mom is ‘the big panty woman’ she should have more, but don’t tell her we said that! We were left to entertain ourselves whilst they went for a swim in the indoor heated pool, and then we all sat down in the posh restaurant for a lovely meal of scallops and fish.

The next morning we had a walk by the Loire river before heading for coffee and more croissants in the local bar. Mom loves France as you can go to the local bakery to buy pastries and are allowed to eat them in the bar or cafe, making it a very cheap breakfast. To our surprise it was filled with cats, and one sat on the bar in a staring competition. Have you ever tried to out stare a cat? Needless to say Mom and Dad drank up pretty quickly as we were keen to declare war! The scenery changed as we headed into the Rioja region of Spain. The flat Loire valley turned into mountain ranges which were snow capped. We stayed in a really groovy hotel, which was actually a Bodega(vineyard). Our balcony looked out over the vines, and as we stepped out of our room the corridor had glass walls to reveal thousands of barrels of wine. We had a great walk around the vineyard, before getting ready for dinner. It was a 5 course tasting menu. Luckily one course had meatballs, which mom fed to us. Mom and Dad had the wine tasting menu… 5 glasses of rather nice wine for €10. Needless to say we all slept well and a few bottles were purchased from the shop the next day.

After a relaxing breakfast (ham and sausages pinched from the breakfast buffet) overlooking the vineyards we headed into Laguardia, the medieval walled town. We had a wander round the cobbled streets with overhanging houses before setting off on a short 5 hour journey. En route mom booked up a dome house which was completely off grid among vines and olive trees. It was so remote, the owner (who had made the dome house and all the furniture ) directed us to the car park of the local village pub. From there he sent us a video to follow as we were driving, of how to find the place. It was ace. The house was totally fenced off, so we could roam wild and feel safe. It is the first time we have been allowed out for the afternoon by ourselves, and just came back for tea. We felt like kids from the 1970’s! No mobile phones, no adults to check in with, just me, Bertie, Ball and lots of strange smells. As darkness descended we looked through the domed windows and the telescope at all the stars. Grandpa Paul had made mom an advent candle holder, so we lit some candles, and put on some fairy lights. Whilst the adults read, sipped wine and ate olives we dozed under the stars. There was a fantastic log burner in the house, and we were all toasty.

Our final day of travel saw us all outside at 6am in coats and Pj’s with a cup of tea, admiring the heavy frost and we watched as the stars disappeared as the sun came up over the snow capped hills. We played with ball and slid around on the decking. As mom said, “life doesn’t get much better than this”.

Mom packed the car very efficiently, and despite Dad saying we would not get everything that mom had bought in the car, she managed it. Mom is a monkey for buying things to remind her of the trip, she especially likes buying keyrings!! Over the years we have had ones with monkeys, elephants, crystals and tulips . This year we have wild boar and lavender ones! She also bought 10 years worth of soap from Provence- honey and lavender are her two favourites. The car smells lovely! She has left a little space for French wine, after buying Rioja and Vermut in Spain.

Day 1.
Despite making room for us in the back of the car, I sleep on the passenger’s feet and Patch lies on Mom or Dad’s lap. We slept through most of the journey, but mom said it was beautiful. We drove through olive groves, vineyards and finally through field after field of drying sunflowers. It was a short 6 hour journey. Mom wangled the two hours of driving in the middle, which meant that she only had to do one shift! We stayed in the countryside near Cuenca in Spain - a suite with indoor jacuzzi and outdoor private garden with private swimming pool. All this for about the same price as a Travel Lodge in the UK. After a trip into Cuenca to see the houses that overhang the sides of the cliff we headed back to the room. The weather was cold, and the pool temperature was about 8 degrees. Mom and Dad waited until the cover of darkness and had a hot jacuzzi followed by a skinny dip in the pool. It was freezing and they had bright red bums which they then plunged back into the jacuzzi. This strange behaviour of running between the two and yelling went on for over an hour. Mom said Wim Hoff would be proud of her, Dad said he was going to have a heart attack!

Day 2
There was a loud knock at the door at 8am and two people carried in the breakfast tray as it was so big. It was laden with bacon and eggs, tostadas, fruit, cheese, ham, juices, croissants and cakes. Nanny Biscuit would have been proud of mom as she wrapped up the cake and croissants for the car journey. It was a long day in the car..nearly nine hours. The sunflowers turned into forests of pine trees and we got out and walked through the trees which were being tapped for their resin. We arrived in Carcassone about 6pm and were upgraded to a suite overlooking the citadel which was only a two minute walk away. We explored the old walled city before it got dark, and found a little restaurant for dinner. We love France as they allow dogs into most restaurants and all the shops.

Day 3
We decided to enjoy the room and Carcassone and stayed another day. We wandered around the old citadel stopping for crepes and coffee for breakfast. It was a relaxing day as we walked round the ramparts, stopping for a cup of tea every so often. Mom had a look round the shops. In the evening we found a great restaurant where food is cooked over the fire in the middle of the dining room. Mom and Dad had steak and jacket potatoes. We can vouch for the steak as we had a few tit bits, but it did give me the wind! Mom and Dad slept with the window open and Dad sprayed his deodorant round the room. Mom said it reminded her of the boy’s changing rooms at school!

Day 4
Today started with a man sticking something up my bum and groping my testicles. He then tilted my head back and tried to ram something down my throat. I felt throughly abused, but Mom said it was just an examination and worming tablet to get me back into the UK. Patch as always was very obliging and just stood there allowing the man to grope him, but I didn’t go down without a fight. I squirmed and barked and when the tablet approached my mouth, I spit it out. He attacked my jaw with such violence that I tried to bite him. I then showed him who was boss by cocking my leg up his desk! The good news is that he gave up on the examination and stamped my passport anyway! After such a rough start to the day, I slept for the next 7 hours until we reached the Loire Valley. Apparently it had poured it down all the way, good experience for winter in Yorkshire! We stayed in an old abbey for the night. Wow, it was amazing. We went for a walk in the rain and mom picked walnuts, and then they went for a swim and jacuzzi. We were allowed in the posh restaurant where mom had scallops followed by fish. I felt right at home in such a posh place and hoped they offered me a permanent bed, but that was until I met their dog who had slobber hanging down her mouth… it was not a pleasant look and her advances were not reciprocated!

Day 5
We went into breakfast and were munching away on sausage when we became aware of a commotion. A French couple came in with three boys. The eldest was about ten and he started to cry and scream, everyone was staring. We just lay under the table on a blanket as we have been trained to do ( mom says it is one of the few things we are good at) and watched. Apparently he had ‘a thing’ about dogs, and refused to sit at the next table. Mom rolled her eyes, and shook her head, but as Dad had finished his breakfast, she suggested we go for a walk while she finished her breakfast on her own. We were gutted as we thought we had missed out on the last sausage for a naughty boy, but mom put it in a napkin for us and smuggled it out of the breakfast room!

It was a drive of just 6 miles to our next hotel in Saumur. We had a great day walking along the Loire River, looking at the many chateaus and watching the kingfishers and egrets on the water. Our hotel was in the heart of the town and was very nice. Most nice French hotels have a coffee pod machine, but this one had a shower oil pod machine. You put the pod into a special machine attached to the shower and the water came out with soothing oil in it. Dad was not impressed but mom looked like a prune when she left the shower. We had an evening walk and went for a meal. Dad made a bee line for the Thai. After the last seven months of Mediterranean food, he fancied something different. We went under the table on our blanket and went to sleep until the owner came over to take our picture. He then cuddled us and when he bought Mom and Dad’s curry, he bought us both a plate of chicken. What a nice man. Sorry mom, more smells!

Day 6
We made superb timing to Calais, and stopped at Cite Europe to get some wine. This meant no room in the back for us, so Mom and Dad could no longer complain about 4 of us in the front. We arrived at our hotel between rain storms and got out for a long walk along the sea front. There, in front of us, was a giant (mechanical) dragon going for a walk. He could roll his eyes, stick out his tongue, flap his wings and shoot fire. He was so big that people were sitting on his back and could walk along his tail. Mom said you could imagine him as a real dragon, he was so lifelike. We loved watching him, until he looked right at us opened his nostrils and covered us in us snot! Then he lifted up his tail and sent a spray of wee everywhere. Mom said not to be a wuss as it was only water. The adults seemed to find it more funny than the children. We rounded off our stay with another superb French meal. Mom and Dad are so predictable, Mom had a tiramisu of advocado and salmon, followed by halibut and Dad had fish soup with a cheese crust followed by duck.

We had an early night before setting off for the Uk the next day. So far we have encountered rain, rain and more rain. I might have to go to live with Uncle Roberto in Spain!

We sailed into Uncle Roberto's marina 10 days ago. He was pleased to see us and lavished us all with hugs and kisses. Our berth was waiting for us along with the car, which started first turn. She was in a bit of a state as half of the Sahara desert was over her. Some teenager had written on the dirt in Spanish and we googled it- 'if you like your sex as dirty as this car, please ring the number below'. Apparently it had been amusing the marina staff for weeks. Uncle Roberto likes to be very efficient and was full of apologies that he hadn't cleaned it. We rather liked it as it made mom and Dad chuckle for ages.

Beside putting the boat to bed for the winter, (which involves having her lifted and chocked up on the hard) we have been sightseeing. We start each day with a walk to the Churroserria for breakfast. I have become known as the churros king, and the locals look on in amazement as I eat my way through sugary long donuts. The lovely waiter brings extra for me. The local women who go there between dropping their kids off at school and going to work get extra churros for the local tramp who walks past each day. He is as mad as a hatter, and swears and shouts at them, but still they buy him food every morning.

We have visited many of the hill villages in the mountains known as the Alpujarra. Although the weather is still 26 degrees in Motril, there is snow on the mountains and the hills are fresh and crisp. Mom and Dad arrived on the first day in shorts! Luckily mom had started the packing and they had trousers in the car, but had to go and buy jumpers and shawls! I shivered, so mom shared her shawl with me. Bertie and I are now trying to desperately grow our winter coats. The hills are known for their hams, and we enjoyed ham tapas sitting outside with the fresh water from the hills running in little troughs through the streets. This part of Spain is known for longevity and they put it down to their fresh mountain water and good food. After lunch we went walnut picking. Mom loved it and had a handbag full of walnuts. When eaten fresh they are a much more subtle flavour and are much softer, which is good as mom has a dodgy tooth! We then drove up even higher into the mountains and went for a walk. One minute we were running wild and the next Dad was calling Bertie back frantically. Suddenly we were surrounded by about 20 vultures circling. Dad reckoned they were eyeing him up for their tea.

We also enjoyed the other hill villages - Lanjaron is another hill village which is famous for its honey. Needless to say mom bought honey sweets, honey biscuits as well as a big honey jar! Bubion is famous for all its woven baskets (only one was purchased) and another for its pottery. One of our favourites was Soportujar. It is said that when the Moors were killed, Galician settlers arrived. They brought with them their customs and pagan legends about covens, witches and sorcery. Modern day villagers have taken advantage of this and the village now has caves, passageways, impressive spiders, witches, serpents and dragons as well as Baba Yaga and her house with hen's feet who was said to have eaten children who behaved badly. We loved it, especially when mom and I got on the witches broomstick for a tourist photo! It had a cat on it. Bertie is so stupid that he didn't realise it was fake!

We ended our time, where it began 7 months ago in Granada. We wandered around the old city stopping at the Moroccan area for homemade mint lemonade and sweet little treats before tagine for lunch. They remembered me and Bert from April, and so extra chicken appeared for us. We have become celebrities this year - I hope Yorkshire is ready to have us back. We are looking forward to telling our friends of our adventures, but first we have our journey back. I shall leave Bertie to tell that tale in another blog. Love Patch xx