Where Are You Mr Melon Man? PART 4



The thing about waiting is that while your consciously doing it, nothing seems to progress at lightening speed.  

I am waiting for the melon man to arrive.  While I wait and wait some more I begin to think the psychic perception is a little off key.  That old friend called doubt begins to slide into that little vacuum in my mind that I actually heard the prediction correctly.  

 The days tick by at an alarmingly slow pace. A pleasure considering how fast life felt living in the UK – rush rush rush!  

 The season’s change,  my Spanish improves – slowly.  The trees are cut, the land is cleared.  Contingency plans are set out to replace the solar panelsAfter the robbery  and life is generally blissful.   

 Afternoons are whittled away in the beautiful plaza watching Pedro shoe shuffle and scream “Maria”.  The cyclists continue to navigate the mountains and then drink brandy at 10 am.  I master ordering my food and drink in the correct quantities and the correct order  – much to Pedro’s satisfaction!

  Weekends are spent socialising with Sergio and his friends and weekdays are spent working – but not as hard as I worked in the UK.  Surprisingly I realise my finances are fantastic considering I only work for 16 hours per week…it’s the plus side of being self sufficient…you don’t need as much cash to fill the pockets of the bankers, managing directors of utility companies or their share holders.

   All electricity is produced by the sun, all water is from a mountain spring and most of the food is home produced or surpluses swapped with a local.  

 In between this time I continue to teach – something I have done for the past nine years in one form or another.  My taxes are much much lower and eating out and socialising is far cheaper – what does this equal in realistic terms – a damn good quality life where your not too knackered or broke to enjoy the fruits of your labour.   

 What are the down sides to this idealistic lifestyle?  The question pings into my mind as I sit on the beautiful terrace surveying the panoramic mountain ranges.  Well, it’s the family issue.  My mother hates the fact I’ve left Wales and nothing can reconcile her view on it!  Her viewpoint is further nailed home by the fact she refuses to come and visit and accuses me of abandonment….inwardly, I reconcile who is the parent in the discussion but opt to say nothing.

 I sit, a refreshing drink of orange juice in my hand – I’m drinking so much of the stuff as every time Sergio passes my house he drops off yet another sack of freshly picked oranges.  Licking my wounds from yet another confrontation with my mother over my whereabouts I come to the conclusion I can’t be anything but pragmatic about the whole issue.  

She has her view – I have mine, and never the twain shall me, obviously!    

The blog – myselfishdream is a tribute to the whole ’your dream is selfish – therefore you too are selfish.’  The accusation stung at first mention but with some careful thought the conclusion is this, such a logic  can not be reasoned with and therefore it is best not to waste precious air space trying to change a viewpoint that just can not be changed. 

 No, my inner philosophical reasoning strives for balance, peace and harmony and remaining in Wales was not going to deliver any of it in any abundance any time soon – best I just get on a plane and visit occasionally, job done, end of story!  

 I take another long sip of juice – only 3 more bags left to cut and squeeze.  I ponder whether I should get a bottle of vodka or Bacardi to add to the healthy option – at four euros a litre it’s a complete bargain and just delicious while taking in the sun’s rays.  Adjusting my sun glasses I recline my chair and decide to take a little afternoon siesta.  Like all waiting games – they soon comes to an end.  

 Walking down my driveway is a man swinging a machete!  Before I begin to panic and think that house of horror three has arrived to Valencia and my demise is short, I realise it’s probably been used to cut the fresh bunch of wild asparagus in his free hand.

 He waves and shouts ‘Hola’ then ‘Bom dia’ – Valencian dialect.  I notice the blue denim shirt and the matching piercing blue eyes.  I jump out of my seat….

 The Melon Man has arrived!


Published by Somewhere Over the Olive Tree

Prolific second hand shopper, rubbish rumager and upcycler, that sees beauty where non exists. From Dolly the Vintage Caravan to Dream Catchers I find inspiration and creativity where it is practically non existent to most people's eyes. My creativity comes from an intention of reducing waste and helping the planet by reusing things people throw away. I have refurbished my whole home from 'rubbish' to demonstrate what can actually be achieved with a little imagination, patience and maybe a glass or two of whiskey. I also adore the simple things in life like looking at the mountains, playing with my dogs, cooking, sewing and dancing. You can find out more on SOMEWHERE OVER THE OLIVE TREE on Facebook

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