.....Falls mainly on the Alpujarra. And most of it is making it's way through our flat roof and into the dining room. The Berber style of house that looks so romantic in the startling white light of Summer suddenly dawns as impractical, and resembles a kitchen sieve.....still, something rythmic about falling to sleep to the drip, drip, drip. Personally I prefer the sound of the cicadas in late summer.
However, allow me to introduce myself, on this first blog about life in a whitewashed pueblo, unnamed of course as it' s one of the very last unspoilt villages in which to settle here in Andalucia. Perhaps not the first blog I have started, and which should probably be better named Further Procrastination. (There might be a few clues along the way as to location, let's see how observant you are!)
Well, we started life again here almost four years ago, having harboured a longing to move, and a long standing love affair with all things Andalusian - before giving in to the theory of "If you don't go then you'll never know".
So biting the bullet we packed up the contents of our lovely Homes and Gardens style Edwardian house, dragged two indignant kids, an angry cat, and a fat Labrador, and sank all our profit into a leaking shed in the middle of nowhere, oh, yes, 1114m up a mountain.
So, should you have nothing better to do then meet me back here tomorrow and I'll tell you a few stories about how we got on....