Boxes and pox ( the chicken kind).
Just when you think you have sorted out a section of the amount there is to be done, it gets undone by life. Things packed away are suddenly required. Plans made must be respun.
Our plan is to go to Marbella on the 24th by plane and return on August 10th to close the house we are renting and return the keys to the landlord. The passport office are not happy with the literal translation of Alba’s birth certificate and have asked us for an extract of the birth certificate from the Spanish Consulate; something which we were told on the phone they don’t provide. Despite knowing that what was in the filing cabinet was our last original birth certificate, we have started to doubt ourselves. What did we post? Surely the Passport Office know what they are about when it comes to birth certificates? Jorge has applied to Madrid for more official copies. Our plan of a little break in Marbella after the removals company have taken everything on July 22nd is looking shakey. I’m not sure we’ll be there. It’s the last time I buy flights 6 months in advance. I could never have anticipated we would be moving in July last January. We have managed to find a philosophical stance after the panic subsided. We have to take the car across anyway . If we miss our flight, so be it. It’s no biggy. We roll with the punches.
The second blow is after planning a fab weekend in London to celebrate with our friends, it looks like Alba has contracted chicken pox. Poor darling. She was so miserable when she saw all the spots. There are 6 of them. I hope it’s a reaction to something else. Crying she said; ‘I have to see my best friends this weekend! It’s our last chance!’ I pacified her with the idea that we could work something out before we leave. Fingers crossed. Best laid plans of mice and men…