'Mad dogs and Englishmen go out in the midday sun' or so the song goes, but you have to be more than a little mad or just English to go out in this heat!

I watched the British news this morning and grinned to myself as the weathergirl announced highs of around 28 in some parts of England making it uncomfortably hot for some! Oy Oy Oy! Today was the eighth continuous day where the temperature reached 40+ and the fourth week were some 35+ temps had been reached consistently. Keeping cool is an art form and you can wither and die very quickly if you're not in Spanish mode. i.e., work early in the morning or later in the evening with the afternoons spent chilling out.

Last Saturday we were invited to the horse racing meet at the Mijas Hippodrome by a local horse trainer and his wife whom we recently befriended. Naive in the ways of the sport of kings in Spain, I enquired as to the protocols at the park. I was not surprised to learn that shirts and shorts were the order of the evening but what was more surprising was the time of the first race. Be there for about 10.15, first race is at 10.30, last race at 1.30 then we'll have a bite and a beer!' he said. All well and good you might say, but this meeting was at night!

There are usually about five or six races over a range of distances on a 2km oval sand track, all lit up like daytime under powerful floodlights. On one side is the track with rows of seating, start and finish posts, inspection paddocks etc, whilst on the other side of the massive terrace is an array of different bars and eateries including live open griddle fires with whole pigs and cow ribs roasting, filling the air and the nostrils with that beautiful aroma of barbecue.

The reason for the late meeting is more obvious than you would expect. The mean temperature for the racing is around 30 at midnight which is deemed just about acceptable for the horses never mind the jockeys. It's a lovely family atmosphere with old and young alike enjoying the spectacle of the races well into the wee hours with the eating and drinking adding to an all round good night out. And if you're not au fait with the gee gee's, then how about a spot of flamenco, live music or Spanish dancing to keep you entertained in between races. It's got just about everything. And the entry fee for all this? Well, it cost 5 euro for entry with OAPs and children getting in for free with minimum bets of 2 euro being accepted by a number of track and privateer bookies.

My delight is a 3 euro ticket on anything with four legs and a good set of teeth like the mother in law's, a pint of Strongbow in one hand and a hot pig sandwich in the other. Can't think of a better way of spending a Sunday morning, oh, I mean an evening, oh, whatever!

Oh, and the car parking is free as well and only about 50 meters from the gates.

There are things lots of people profess to be proud of, especially if attaining a personal achievement, but there's one thing in my opinion than can give no greater pride or pleasure than that of an offspring's success or accomplishment. And that was how both my wife and I felt on Joseph's passing out at Britannia Naval College at Dartmouth.

The day was wonderful though the weather treated us less kindly. The parade was held, as it nearly always is, outside though the rain poured down through most of it. It deterred in no way the hundred or so men and woman who had, in one way or another, worked their way through the various tests and courses associated in the attainment of a Naval Officers pips. The Royal Marines band played, the aircraft flew overhead in display, the parade was inspected and marched past. All in all, a great tradition of Naval history again showed that while Britain wallows in negative daily scandal, doom or despondency, there is still something taking place where people are proud to be in the service of their country and of being British.

I myself had, albeit for a brief spell, been part of the training team at Dartmouth during my own Naval career and on that day as Joe marched with the rest of them, I could never have imagined witnessing any son of mine in that position. What a great day, for even in the gloomy rain, there shone lights of pride and positive hopes for the future all over that parade ground. Oh yes, and Rose got a new dress and hat (which blew off in the wind) out of it as well!

When we returned to Alma Road that evening, after being given lunch, a tour of the college and numerous photo calls, we were bursting with pride, unable to sleep and me with a permanent smile on my face. Luke had come with us to celebrate and had shed tears of joy for his brother, and hopefully soon, his turn would come as well.

Joseph arrived back within a couple of days after his wind down period which would signal our departure from the rental and his incumbency into temporary accommodation supplied by one of his good friends and their parents of whom we shall be eternally grateful. Temporary in the fact that after six weeks Joe would be off to Southampton maritime college to commence his studies for his Deck Officer Degree in the executive branch of the Royal Fleet Auxiliary.

Luke was in his bedsit, Joe was with his friends and we were one day from moving into a B&B.

The removal men came on time once again and took the last of our belongings and furniture off to Spain. This time though, we would be there to meet them just over a week later. The remaining items and the boys stuff was secured in the lockup. Luke and Joe had taken on the responsibility of the storage as most of the stuff was theirs anyway. Everything else had now been sold or given away. A nice lady came and bought the BMW, my pride and joy for ten years, though at least it was going to get a new lease of life.

We made arrangements with the rental company to come in the next day after moving what little baggage we had to the B&B to carry out the leaving inventory. We spent most of the last night cleaning up and putting furniture back into place and so forth.

A quick Kebab late that night before going to bed for the last time at the rental.

Next day went smoother than expected. Everything was moved, boys helped best they could, though there wasn't much to do. The lady came from the rental office, carried out the inspection and an hour later I handed over the keys. We were informed the deposit would be in our bank account before we left for Spain, and it was. Then Rose and I settled into our temporary accommodation on the seafront, five days from f' day.

Over those final few days we finalised accounts and bills, took in as many goodbyes as possible though remember, no one apart from a couple at my work knew I'd actually gone. People we had known in the shops and bars for years were still raising eyebrows as we told them that yes, we were definitely leaving on Monday, though I reckon some thought we were still bluffing at this stage.

It was like being in limbo watching everything tick by slowly. I mean, what can you do? It's not as if we were on holiday, we had lived in the area for over thirty years, there was nothing left to do or see. The cinema took a battering as did Wetherspoons and a number of other hostelries, Oh, and of course we had an obligatory night out each with a chosen group of friends. For me it was a number of guys from the Squash club I had belonged to, a quiet affair with a few pubs and a curry before going onto a night-club. For Rose however, it was loud trouble all the way with threats of eviction from a seafront bar and later from a night-club, unfortunately, the same one I was in! Nightmare! Still, a good time was had by all. But jeez' did Rose have a hangover next day, serves her right!

By the penultimate evening, we were starting to run out of clean clothes and conversation. Luke was working in the phone shop and Joe was enjoying his all too brief summer hols before knuckling down. I tell you, that week really dragged.

We had said goodbye to Rose's Mum and Dad over a meal but would pop in on the way to the airport the following day. The last night was spent with our boys, a Chinese meal which had always been all our favourite, and a couple of bottles of wine followed by a walk along the very familiar Esplanade.

All four of us sat on a Prom bench looking out over the bay though very little was said. I had given up smoking eight years earlier but had kept safe a very special cigar that I had bought in Amsterdam nearly thirty years earlier as an indulgence never realised.

I unwrapped and lit it, tasting the old familiar aroma of a good cigar. Rose took a draw as did both the boys though it was the three of us who shared it until it was gone.

I said I doubted whether we would ever meet, as a family of four anyway, in Weymouth again. Life was taking us away to foreign climes and I had no doubts it would do the same for our boys in their future chosen professions. When midnight came, both the lads kissed us goodnight and said they would see us for a coffee in the morning to say goodbye. There were no tears that night, but it was obvious we were all experiencing the same emotion, and tears would come later. They, like good brothers should, were friends, and it was good to see that as they went uncaringly off to a night-club for a beer together. Rose and I went indoors to the hotel for our last permanent night in England.

Useful hint
Goodbyes can be a happy or a sad affair. It's not until you're going that you realise you're actually going to miss people. I must have said goodbye to a hundred acquaintances and forgot a hundred more. My advice, don't dwell on it. There were some people, when we went back in January of this year, that felt somewhat aggrieved we hadn't been in touch or communicated with them after leaving. By the same token, there were a great number of people who failed to keep in touch with us and I supposed that aggrieved me a little. But remember, if you move away anywhere, even to another part of Britain, you will and do lose touch with people. Some you may have thought of as close friends or family. But in the end, time clouds over past acquaintances and everyone moves on. So be prepared for a knock back, you will find that a lot of people, as I said before, may resent your parting, for whatever the reason. You have to be somewhat selfish in your approach because remember, there's no one else outside of you that can help, especially if moving abroad.

Useful tip
Exchanging or renewing patriot documentation can be a long drawn out and expensive exercise here. There's something the Passport office or DVLA won't advocate! If your documentation is nearing the end of it's life, needs upgrading or is just tatty, then lose it! (oops!) and apply as soon as possible for a new one to arrive in time before you leave. It will save a great amount of hassle should anything need changing or runs out of date whilst abroad. I'll probably get a slap on the wrist for this but it's worth it. (Not that I'm saying it's something I did!)

Spanish Facts
The guitar actually originated in Spain, a variation on a Moorish stringed instrument.
Soap operas are more popular here than in Britain. Here they are called Telenovelas' that translated literally means Story for television'.
Back to food. Other delights which I myself use, eat or cook are Chicharrones, fried pork skins, (like scratchings). Nopales, edible cacti with a taste like chilli. And Zarzuela, a spicy shellfish stew.
Oh, and something I do when the Pa in law is around, I tap my elbow with my hand. This is a Hispanic sign indicating that a person is over careful with their money or stingy if you like. (Ha, only joking Pa, I know you've recently had the padlock on your wallet serviced!)

Useful Phrase
Querría tres botellas de agua por favor, cuánto es eso?
Pronounced: kayreeah trays bohtayas day ahwah poor faboor, kwantoh ays aysoh?
Meaning: I would like three bottles of water please, how much is that?
(Why three bottles of water? Remember, one to quench the thirst, one to cool the head and one to stay hydrated!)

Next week
Adios dear old Weymouth, but there was still fun in store at the Airport!