Anyway. I'm home from Spain. I'm absolutely heart broken about this. I love that Bumpkin Town. I love travelling 14 hours to get home. I love walking through the town square and being besieged by kids calling me.
I miss 2 euro bottles of wine and the honesty system in Anai, which led to us racking up whats possibly a 50e if not more bar bill because we kept forgetting to pay. I miss warm freshly made bread from Ogipan. I miss crazy people singing and dancing on the streets at 6am.
I miss three day weekends and I miss going to Calahorra for riding. I miss the sheer friendliness of the people. And the insanity of fiestas for Domestic Pets.
So why am I home? Two months earlier than planned?
We resigned. Our boss was crazy, forgetting to pay us, paying us a LOT less than what he initially promised when we left the UK. He dropped classes on us with no warning, meaning we had no plans ready. He interrupted classes and insisted on talking Spic to them.
Cracks appeared in mine and Welshy's relationship. We bicker a lot, but our arguments became serious. Drunkenly several times we discussed ending it. Sometimes I felt like there was a distance and I couldn't talk to him like I've always been able too.
It was hard. We're both independent people, we both drive each other crazy and we need our own space from each other. Suddenly we couldn't do that. We worked together, we lived together. We had no other friends, we couldn't go out without each other. The only break I got from him (and vice versa) was when I'd go for an hour to do a company class, or when I went for 3 hours on a Friday to ride.
It was stressful. He decided we needed to come home for our sanity, for our relationship to survive. Our boss had taken out a small argument with me, out on my class of 4 year olds, nearly reducing them to tears.
He blamed Welshy for him having to take a class, and both of us going home. That Welshy should have checked and confirmed this class with my boss. My boss has been taking this class since Feb. Three Months. As far as we were concerned there was no mistake with the timetable, but my boss felt there was. Conviently forgot that it was his class and then blamed us for it.
We fought that night and on Wednesday two weeks ago, I woke to the sound of Welshy writing his resignation letter. Mine followed shortly after. Our boss ignored the emails even though we knew he had read them and on Friday we were on holiday in Lisbon - a beautiful place - and we forced the issue, offering to go at the end of the week, to not work a notice.
Monday night we got the reply that he would meet us at 8am and discuss it. Tuesday 8.45, he knocks. We sign our resignation letters and that was it.
We took a weeks holiday in San Adrian and then drunkenly, sadly returned home a week ago.
So now what? I don't want to go back to the NMM. Welshy doesn't want to go back to Car Counting. So we're both signing on and applying for many things. The mother is pleased/angry that we are back, take your pick. She keeps talking about how she cant afford to keep us and how we need to do work about the place. Chores. I bite my tongue and try not to remind her that The Brat lived for a year on the dole and didn't pay rent, how he never helps about the house and how he can't be expected to help now as he's working, but yet I was still expected to do chores while I was working. Nothing changes there.....
I want to go back. I miss the lifestyle, the bumbling struggling attempts to speak Spanish. I miss going to different Spanish cities. I miss going to Camp Nou and the Bernabau. I miss discussing the football with the little kids. I miss playing with my Toddler students. I miss the fact that we didn't go out on an evening until 2am, instead of coming home at 12 and thinking I've had a good night. I miss coming home at 3am and seeing little old ladies just heading out for their night of fun to get started.
Welshy is visiting Wrexham now, it will do us good to have this break from each other. We'll see what happens when he comes back.
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