So I’ve had a break. Yes I know I’m not long back from one. But this time it was solo. 7 nights at la casa. Alone. When we first had the cottage I’d occasionally go there on my own. My mother, who rarely went anywhere on her own in the nearly 70 years that my parents were married, would say. ‘ But won’t you be lonely.’ My reply ‘ No mum. I’ll be alone. That’s a totally different thing. To be fair Ian and I haven’t been together for 32 years by spending 247 together. Ask him how we have got this far he will say ‘ at first different counties. These days different countries. To be fair. He’s right.

It was an eventful flight over. The flight was full. Totally full. I found myself getting cross at some of the passengers. Then realising I was probably older than the ones I was getting cross with. The flight was 65% Saga and 20% 16-18 ye olds on a school trip. The first group was a Saga group which I was reminded that I am old enough by a long way to be a member. I’m a ditherer whenever flying. Checking the whereabouts of my phone. My passport. Ian. But multiply that by trillions and it was this flight. Not helped on arrival where we had to board the bus. Sadly I remember travel where you had to stand alongside the plane as the luggage was offloaded and you had to pick yours out. These days I rarely put luggage in the hold. It’s amazing just how light you can travel.

As usual I digress. But a quick run to pick up the car hire bus. Not pick up a bus. That would be silly. But the bus to take me to pick up the car and I was away up the mountain. Up the wiggly road whilst continually thinking just how dry everything was. Crisp I think was the word that went through my head. Still no significant rain. And still no sign of it coming. Oh and still we don’t have mains water permanently. This trip I gave up trying to work out what day we got it and what days we didn’t. Or even what times of the day.

I still get that feeling as I pull into the drive at the house. Usually the feeling after the drive up the wiggly road of needing the loo but always the joy of arriving to the gate. No. It wasn’t open for me ~ this was taken after the toilet stop.

When we first bought the house I had arranged to have a lock put on the gate. We completed and had a flight booked for two weeks later. Did I wait? No. Two days after completion I was here. No lock on the gate. I woke the next morning to find the gates being put into a pick up and about to be driven off. I went to the gate and realised they were going off to have the lock fitted. I asked in my Spanglish when they were coming back. How rude when the driver stuck up two fingers. Until I realised he knew my Spanish was pants and was trying to tell me that they’d be back at 2. They did come back. Not at 2. I realised at that time the meaning of the word manana.

The name of the house has this this year been accurate. Casa Verano Eterno. The house of Eternal Summer. This years summer has and still goes on. And on. And on. A bit like me to be fair but at some point the weather has to turn. Speaking of turning. Years ago I was having Accupuncture. My mother knew I hated needles. ‘What are you having that for? ‘ she asked. ‘To make me a nice person’. Really? She replied. ‘Does she have enough needles’ Apparentlyq not!!

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The garden is so dry and it’s amazing what does and doesn’t survive. It’s such a huge learning curve for me. I keep saying it. There are drought tolerant and there are drought tolerant plants. I’ve lost things like gaura which have burnt to a crisp. The leaves on the agapanthus are scorched. Some salvias have survived. No flowers. But still alive. At this time of year there would normally be rain and there would be a further flush of colour. But there’s no rain forecast for at least another month. We are still on a day on few days off mains water cycle. But it is getting easier now the summer demand for water is reducing.

I’m always staggered at these ferns. They get some water but not a lot. They are in bright hot sunlight. Yet they are pretty magnificent. I’d never be able to replant them in new pots ~ one I’d never move them and two they are big enough. Three. I can’t actually be bothered. There are other things on the agenda. On Ian’s lists. Yes. They still appear.

The one thing about the heat is the slight whiff of the curry plant as you walk past on the heat of the day. I hacked these back pretty hard in Spring on the basis if they died they died. But they haven’t and have become more bushy. . Very few yellow flowers this year but I can live with that. They are under the large olive tree and the soil here is pretty rubbish too. But they do well. I did consider a curry path. But….. it’s not really the scented path I imagine.

There were very few grapes on the vine this year but the little there have been were eaten by the birds. I’ve realised I have the last two years vine prunings in the garage. They are great for lighting the wood burner. I’ve you bought any kindling this year. Is nearly doubled in price. Sadly we sing have grape vines in Camberwell.. I know nothing about vines and we had the Gardner from Vivero Fkorenas to prune for us. He’s Spanish and knows his stuff. We said we didn’t think it had been pruned for two years. He looked and counted. He said 5. He was right.

I spent most of the week in the garden. Weeding. Dodging the mozzies. Driving back and forth to the garden centre to collect compost feed to add to the soil. The soil on the garden is pants and needs work. I think I carried 21 bags back. Not literally. But in the boot of the car in a couple of trips. On Saturday I realised that I needed to go and get some more as the garden centre is closed Sunday and Monday. I had one bag left on the path. I thought I’d worked really hard lugging the bags around. So I headed off. Bought 4 more bags. Two more Clivia. And said to Lorraine ‘don’t worry. The car is down the ramp I’ll put them in the boot.’ I opened the boot and there were 4 bags. I hadn’t even taken the last lot out! Anyway. All bar one has been scattered on the garden. But look at the bags. To be honest I didn’t know whether to smoke it or scatter it. I’ve cautious. So I scattered it.

I did manage a short sit on the chair in the sun but I’m not one for sitting and getting burnt!

The view looking up the curvy path. I’ve lost the lavender again this year. So I’m giving up for now. It had two chances. And used them.

The creeping rosemary is doing so much better so I will continue to replant that. I have lost two very large rosemary bushes but I suspect they were pretty ancient. This path had some gaura. All gone. The agapanthus. The Clivia. The birds of paradise all doing ok. I have planted a new sesbania ~ an ornamental shrub with reddish-orange flowers. It has deciduous leaves and grows to a height of 15 feet. It says it likes water but the one we have already gets some but not a lot. The garden centre had some of the seeds from me and have grown them for me. Fingers crossed.

I make no excuse in including yet another photo like this. Growing in pots. With a fabulous view to the coast. As long as you don’t look at the dodgy hedge. I think we need some more for the bank. Not a cactus. A euphorbia.

Have you ever tried stripping the leaves off these yuccas. Well not these ones in particular but to be honest I’m very happy for you to. A bit of a nightmare especially without gloves ~ which were sitting on the shelf in the garage. But it cleans them up and I officially love the variegated yuccas.

There is always time for a cuppa and a piece of cake. The only trouble is that once I sit down it’s an effort to get back up. Sometimes I just don’t bother and stay there until I can. Watching crap tv. Or just loving the view. From the sofa. Especially on a solo trip.

A reminder of my years living with my parents. Except this plant is in the garden. Not in a pot in the house with the obligatory rubber plant and the spider plants. There are swathes of these monstera ~ Swiss cheese plants in the Botanical gardens in Malaga. And they look fabulous there. I’m not keen in the garden. In Malaga they are magnificent. But as long as it survives it stays. So far it’s done 5 years.

To be fair. Don’t feel sorry for all the hard work. All work and no play and all that. I did venture into Cómpeta. A few evenings at favourite restaurants. A walk around town.

Early morning light over the roundabout that’s not a roundabout. It was all cut back at the end of the summer and I’m hoping it will be awash with the wildflowers again next year. There are still wild fires happening around Spain which are worrying. That’s why I have the roundabout cut back. It worries me.

There are few flowers in the garden at the moment. I must ask what the first one is. It’s written down somewhere. UPDATE ~ you know when the owner of the local garden centre qheee i but my plants in Spain has read the blog. You get a message. ‘And the Red flower is jatropha integerrima’ Thanks Lorraine.!

Whilst there is little colour in the garden there are plenty of interesting leaves. Colour. Shape and texture. The large leaves of the black and white bird of paradise. Strelitzi Nicolai The gorgeous texture of the Colocasia mojito.

No garden post would be a Cómpeta post without the fabulous foxtail agave. I have replanted two and this pot contains a few more that need moving.

When we were in Cómpeta the last time we went on the fabulous Cómpeta Art Walk and Ian purchased these great black and white prints from our friend Dave at Cómpeta Portraits. These aren’t in their final place ~ maybe they are but Ian will need to decide. Along with two more that Dave has just framed for us.

So the week is over. A glorious last night view from the terrace down the mountain to the coast. An early night and an even earlier morning.

What idiot books a flight for 8.10 from Malaga for a Tuesday morning. Yep Ian. But for me. To be honest I don’t mind. I was up and out 4.45 to drive down the mountain and I met two cars untilI I got to the main road.

Back to the UK where a young boy with his father was at passport control and his father was joking with his son about the lady behind the desk saying she knew everything as she was friends with Father Xmas. ( sorry. Mentioning Xmas when Joseph doesn’t even know Mary is pregnant yet)

I couldn’t help myself. When it was my turn I said I couldn’t help overhearing that you are friends with Father Christmas. Could you do me a favour. I’ve been a good boy too so can you ask him to sort my b***y passport out. It never works on the E gates and I’m always sent to this naughty step! She laughed. ‘ sorry. I’m border control. If I was from passport office I’d love to help!

As I arrives back I get an email to say a parcel has arrived for me at the shop where all our mail is delivered. That will be my Peter Nyssen bulbs. I have returned home to boxes upon boxes of tulip bulbs. I may be quiet for a while. ( No chance).