I raided the family album for some snaps – what is it they say? ‘a picture paints a thousand words’ . I love looking at old photos, more for the memories they evoke, of course, than the photos themselves.
The first is of my husband – way before I met him – he’s about 20 in this picture, and if I put a snap of our son next to it from when he was about the same age you’ll see the resemblance.
Going back to 1950 the snap below is my older brother with my mum and dad at the seaside – take a bit of interest, dad!!
The next two pictures are my ID cards from when I lived in Madrid – I had dual nationality then so I needed the official DNI (Documento Nacional de Identidad) which every Spaniard carries to get through the mounds of red tape which they revel in over there. The other card was my ID for the Escuela Central de Idiomas. (Central School of Languages in Madrid)
My Spanish husband, Bienve, (full name – Bienvenido = Welcome) came from the province of Segovia in central Spain. The next picture is of me wearing a Segovian ‘manteo’ – a beautiful, embroidered shawl worn over the rest of the regional costume during the annual village fiesta. The skirt, which is made of thick felt weighs a TON (or do I mean TONNE?!) and is actually held up with sturdy braces concealed under the bodice. Tradition demands that the ‘mozas’ – young unmarried girls – dance BACKWARDS, so they are facing the statue of the Virgin, which is paraded through the street during the religious procession – a tricky business, but worth it by all accounts to attract the attention of male admirers.
Changing tack (no pun intended) I love horses, so I’ve included a couple of shots of them – they come in many guises and are very entertaining whatever their size and pedigree.
The next shot is of Simon, the older of my two sons – here he’s out in the rain in our garden, with the brolly for protection, making a paella for about 8. But it’s an interesting thing about your paella – ingredients expand to fit the guests available – and then the guests expand!
And here we are, just about to go off and celebrate my 50th birthday.
And lastly, the little girl on the balcony was snapped whilst having her photo taken from inside the house by an adoring mother during a lull in proceedings at the Feria de Abril in Sevilla, southern Spain. The Feria takes place the week after Easter and it doesn’t get any more ‘typical Spanish’ than this ………. beautiful, olive skinned señoritas in flamenco dresses and handsome riders on immaculately turned out horses – there’s enough riding apparel and tack on display to keep the leather industry going for years!!
The Feria is a seven day party, and coming as it does the week after Semana Santa (Easter), which is Seville’s other annual extravaganza , by the end of the fortnight the locals are almost dead on their feet – the taxi driver who took us to the airport was most definitely on auto pilot!