It was wet and windy at El Moro. We’d been ‘stranded’ for a couple of days as the stream was flowing strongly and crossing it was risky for our little Penny the Peugeot 205. The view outside the window was glorious, streams of water coming down from the hills, making everything soggy. “It will be a fantastic spring! – I said as I tied up my dressing gown and sunk into my slippers, happy at the prospect of a whole day at my sewing machine in front of the fire.
I tried not to think about the sofa delivery we were meant to be getting the next day… If I rang up to cancel, it risked not arriving before the first guests…. I decided it would be fine.
Getting things delivered at Finca el Moro is always such a nuisance, delivery drivers complaining ‘Yo por campo no me meto!’, refusing to come down the track, not because it’s bumpy but because they’re always in such a rush.
However they didn’t really have a choice when I ordered the lovely deep green 6 seater that was to go into the Chestnut cottage. It was far too big for penny the Peugeot and I wasn’t going to risk damaging it by strapping it into the back of the pick up truck.
The next morning I woke up to beautiful sunshine and birds chirruping after 3 days curled up under the palm tree leaves. I walked up the track and jumped in the puddles, assessed the slippery-ness of the ‘big hill’ and once again decided it would be fine.
I sat on the ‘phone reception rocks’ by the stables and waited for my mobile to ring. Sure enough, off it went, my signal to meet the delivery van. I had come up with a plan, I would meet them at the end of the track and show them the way, knowing full well that if left to their own devices they’d either get lost or give up half way.
I greeted them at the roundabout. A classic pair, one little and one (very) large, both from Cuba.
Just before setting off, Carlos el Cubano shouted through his car window ‘Mami, no estará muy Mal el camino no? (Mami, please don’t say the track is a bad one) and I reassured him “nothing to worry about, follow me!
We set off, the huge white van rumbling behind me. I glanced back to see if it was still following and the few times it slowed down and signalled at me through the windscreen I confidently ignored them and accelerated, hoping the fact there was no phone signal an nowhere to turn round, they would have no choice but to follow.
We stopped in the yard as I decided the last bit to the cottage was a too boggy and they both got out of the van f-ing and blinding: ‘Pero Mami’ you told me the track was alright! I gave him a coca cola and a chocolate bar and that appeased him for a few minutes. I then broke the news that we weren’t done yet and that we would need to carry the sofa about 500 meters up a muddy hill without putting it down.
Their faced dropped and I played the ‘damsel in distress’ card. “Pero Papi” – I said.. you can’t leave it here in the middle of the yard, it’ll get ruined and I can’t possibly move it on my own!
They huffed and puffed up the hill and Cuban Carlos nearly had a heart attack (too many cocas and choccie bars) but they made it. I told them how brilliant they were and thanked them endlessly.
They climbed back into their van armed with olive oil, jamón and a few of our bottled tomatoes as a thank you, but as they left Carlos rolled down the window and said ‘Mami – have you got any more chocolate bars?” – As many as you want Papi.