Buying the house and other details

First thing in the morning: wake up with a smile and with a plan for the day: delegate tasks and organize the troops while serving breakfast.
Each and everyone in the household has a job now, "the husband" does the dishes and supervise the other two; my dad will take the rubish away, including recycling, water the plants, plus buy fresh croissants and bread first thing in the morning and my son will clean the floors and tidy around the living and kitchen. As for me, cook, buy food, do the washing up (no iron, thank God) and toilets, not bad.

Then the essential stuff such as opening a bank account, obtaining a debit card, a checkbook and so on. As all this has to be done in the actual place we´re going to live, we have to go to Sabadell because it cannot be done in the local branch of our Spanish bank. I start missing the UK again, the place where everything can be done at any branch or even by phone. Here everything has to be done in person, with loads of paperwork and in the further branch they can think of. So, it´s not even the Sabadell branch we need to go, but the one at the campus. Yes, the one that opens only mornings because we´re in school holidays and there´s nobody near the University campus.

My dad discovered that the rubbish collection system is very civilised, you take your trash bags at anytime to the local BIG container that´s emptied every night (in Bristol you take your rubbish bags to your black bin and that is collected once a week and you´re not allowed to take anything more than the one full black bin and one black box for recycling). Here they even have containers for glass, another for plastics and another for papel and cartons (in Bristol the council recycle paper but not carton). He also discovered the cybercafe around the corner and the best smelling bakery around. It looks like breakfasts are going to be good.

Off we go to the University campus, the train runs smoothly and its pretty empty, no surprises there. At the bank the cashier looks up when I ask for a cheque book and he kindly offers a piece of wisdom: -"In Spain, a cheque and nothing are the same thing; people don´t trust cheques and nobody will accept one, so it´s pointless to have them"-. But how are we going to give a deposit for a house?, we asked. He shrug: -"Cash, of course, is the only thing people trust here".

After signing the obligatory hundred papers we move on to Sabadell to check on state agents. No sign of them. Every single one is on holidays until at least the end of August. I start to hyperventilate and panic. How are we going to buy a house until then?? Where are we going to live??

"The husband" takes my hand and guides me to an ice-cream parlour nearby where he sat me down and order something cold. He´s wise and means well but I still want to kill him. -"What do they mean they´re close for holidays??" I hear myself scream in a very high pitched voice.

I save the rest out of modesty but I threw a big, huge, tantrum. Anyway it looks like we have to go now to plan B. The problem: we don't have a plan B. The idea, plan A, was that I was to sell the house in Bristol, move everything and that "the husband" will get a flat in Barcelona. He didn't do his part and right there right then I wanted to kill him a voice in my brain just said "exterminate, exterminate" (well, Dr. Who´s last series just finished back in the UK). He offers some sort of explanation about working all the time and not being sure if I´d like the flat (as if I was at all choosy!!).

So, back home to start thinking of plan B.

Another night that I cry myself to sleep. I really, really want to go back home now. Problem is; we sold it.