“Nought as queer as folk” as my Mum always says. Growing up at El Moro has meant that I’ve learnt, through first hand experience that people really do come in all shapes, sizes and colourful personalities. It has also taught me that it’s often easiest to laugh things off and not take things too seriously….
It was a sunny Saturday afternoon in August and we were waiting for our next batch of Yogis to arrive. Each group is so different and this one promised to be of the “Sweaty Betty matching set” kind of group. They all piled into the Landrover at the end of the road wearing really upmarket fashionable shoes and very white linen trousers. I always wince as their minimalist designer suitcases get thrown in the dusty, hay lined trailer.
They all look completely out of place but full of excitement with a smattering of apprehension.
Showing them round the cottages goes smoothly with lots of positive ooh-ing and aah-ing followed by the ‘how quaint’ comments. No doubt very different from their ultra modern apartments, but I appreciate their appreciation.
One lady, let’s call her Silvie, gently taps me on the shoulder and whispers in my ear – I thought I was in the other cottage. My face drops, have I made a mistake? Did she make a special request I’ve missed? The retreat if fully booked so I know I can’t put her anywhere else… I buy my time and ask her to sit tight whilst I “see what I can do”. I come back to her panting and offer her a solution. Not the one she wants but a solution all the same. She will stay in the Hill Cottage instead of the Chestnut BUT she gets a double ensuite all to herself. That’s a good deal right? Right?
She really doesn’t seem convinced and she’s visibly nervous, but this cottage is further away from the main house, what if someone comes in at night? And I am only sharing the cottage with one other person, instead of 3, what if we don’t get on? I try not to roll my eyes too obviously and after lots of stroking and a classic “why don’t you sleep on it”, she has supper and a large glass of wine and decides that she can just about bear it. To top this all off she tells me that her suitcase has been lost and has the airport been in touch. No I say… more bad news.
Silvie has in fact been before. She is tall, beautiful and very glamorous, she doesn’t care for animals or wildlife and El Moro seems to me more like hell than heaven to our dear Silvie. That’s why I was so surprised when she asked to come back. I can’t help but believe that she thinks of this retreat as something she should do rather than something she’d like to do.
The next day I woke up to some shouting coming from the Hill cottage, I instantly thought Oh no. Please don’t let it be Silvie. You guessed it, Silvie was making her way down to the first Yoga practice in the one matching set she put in her hand luggage.
The sheep has been grazing in that field and had mistaken her blue vintage handbag for the “blue bucket”. The blue bucket is about as sacred as any Bible at El Moro and all the animals, peu import, their species, know to come running when they see the mighty blue bucket. She was surrounded by 30 overexcited boisterous sheep gunning for her Birkin. I jumped out of bed and ran to her rescue, trying to make her giggle ‘I told you you’d get on with your housemates!, look they love you!’. She didn’t find it funny.
From then on her I saw her sprint up and down that hill. Twice a day, every day, 30 sheep chasing and bleeting after her every time, on queue. They didnt do that for any other guest, she was certainly getting special treatment.
I didnt think to move the sheep to another field, we have to come up with alternative forms of entertainment here at El Moro.
Any time Silvie saw me her first word would be “Suitcase?” and I would regrettable shake my head every time. I offered some of my clothes, but they wouldn’t make the cut.
Silvie was a trooper, she’d got the wrong room, she’d been bullied by the sheep, she even woke up to a massive fox turd on her bedroom floor one morning. I couldn’t believe it, it was all happening to her!
I felt so bad that I offered to wash the clothes she’d been living in until her beloved suitcase turned up. She handed me her precious garments in a blue bin bag and I put them in the wash room- Maleni’s room as we call it. She doesn’t live in it, but it is her dumping ground and where the linen and washing machine lives.
The next morning I took the washing in and I realised her clothes weren’t in the load… I couldn’t understand. I went into Maleni’s room to search for the bag, maybe I’d forgotten to put it in? I scanned the room and saw the bag in the corner, a sigh of a relief. I opened it up to find rubbish inside it. I was so so confused, what on earth was going on? Then it hit me. Maleni.
Maleni had no doubt mistaken the bag for one of her rubbish bags and thrown it away when she left work the previous day.
I could not believe it. What was I going to do? I had thrown away the only possessions Silvie had with her. I ran to the car, my heart pounding. I drove like a mad woman down the track in my slippers hoping to find the missing bag.
I got to Fuenteheridos and made my way through the big bins outside Antonio’s supermarket. The bins were filled up to the brim so was forced to climb inside to get to the bottom. I waded through nappies, old food and god knows what and I couldn’t find the bloody blue bag. Paco the policeman shouted over in my direction “Eh qué haces!?” (Hey, what are you doing!). I poked my head out of the bin and as he recognised me his angry expression subsided to one of concern. He repeated “Daisy, pero que haces?!”. I explained the story, nearly in tears. He said, don’t worry we will find it. He rang up the town hall and asked what time the bins were emptied, so we could retrace the timeline. Fortunately the bins were yet to be collected, so yesterday’s rubbish was still in the village. The bag had to be there. I looked through every inch of those 5 smelly bins and was just about to give up when Antonio from the supermarket came rushing out saying Daisy Daisy “Maleni is trying to get hold of you!”.
When I rushed into the village I’d forgotten my phone so while I was wading through bin juice Maleni had caught wind of the story and was in a state back at El Moro. She put two and two together and was already thinking she’d have to spend all her savings on designer pants to replace the ones she’d thrown away. She then remembered that the previous day she’d gone to check on her Mum who lives at the top of the village, right next to some bins…. I was looking in the wrong ones!
I ran (in my slippers) to the other end of town with Paco the policeman, Antonio from the Súper and a whole host of others who’d come to see the show and jumped into the bins. There it was a blue bag scrunched up with beautiful designer knickers inside. I rose out of the bins with the bag triumphantly, everyone around me roared and cheered!
I drove home, put the delicates in a wash and stared at them go round and round, they weren’t leaving my sight again. At dinner I gave Silvie her bag of precious clothes and kept the saga to myself… The things we do, hey!