…our Andalucian Life. Covering the things that happen. The things we notice. A week in our lives.

Another week in our little corner of Andalucía. Another seven days in which we’ve managed to experience the ridiculous, the frustrating, the occasionally bewildering and, thankfully, the rather wonderful. Sometimes all before lunchtime.

We run a small website design business, which means that although we live in a beautiful Spanish village, much of our working day is spent dealing with people and businesses elsewhere. Most of the time, it’s a pleasure. Occasionally, however, we find ourselves wondering whether we’ve accidentally wandered into an episode of a particularly surreal television comedy. This week, we finally brought a rather extraordinary business relationship to an end. Without going into details, it involved a remarkable amount of correspondence, some increasingly baffling decisions and the gradual realisation that there are situations in which the most sensible thing you can do is walk away.

And so we did. At precisely midnight, a website quietly disappeared from the internet. No fanfare, no dramatic farewell, just the natural conclusion to a chapter that had probably gone on rather longer than it should. We slept remarkably well,

Meanwhile, our attempts to change our internet and mobile phone provider have developed into something resembling a long running television series. We’ve now corresponded with so many different people that we’re beginning to wonder whether the company employs anyone who has actually read the previous emails. We’ve explained what we want, received assurances that everything is straightforward, been offered various arrangements and then found ourselves explaining the whole thing again to someone new. Our one consistent request has been that everything should be confirmed in writing.

This appears to be an unusually challenging concept. At one point, we were asked when would be a convenient time for someone to telephone us. By email. And then, just when we thought we’d encountered every possible member of the customer service department, along came Natali. From Málaga. A real person, apparently, who introduced herself and offered to take personal responsibility for overseeing the whole process. Wonderful, we thought. Someone relatively local, taking charge. Perhaps we were finally getting somewhere. And then she asked us to email our security information and card details. By ordinary email. After weeks of trying to establish a clear, properly documented arrangement, we were now being invited to send sensitive personal and financial information through one of the least appropriate channels imaginable. We politely declined.

Natali, meanwhile, remains very much part of the production. Whether she’ll eventually guide us across the finishing line or simply introduce us to another member of the cast remains to be seen. At this point, we’re half expecting the entire customer service department to assemble for a curtain call when the fibre is finally installed. Assuming, of course, that it ever is.

And while we’re on the subject of television series, our actual television continues to provide entertainment of an entirely unintended kind. We have two television boxes, several ways of accessing the same service and an increasingly impressive understanding of technical terminology that we never particularly wanted to acquire. Programmes occasionally freeze, sound disappears, and some channels seem to operate according to their own mysterious timetable. We’ve spent hours testing equipment, comparing connections, changing settings and corresponding with our provider. We have, however, established one thing beyond reasonable doubt. It’s not Netflix.

Elsewhere, our ongoing dealings with a Spanish bank and its associated insurance company continue to demonstrate that asking a perfectly reasonable question doesn’t necessarily mean you’ll receive a perfectly reasonable answer. We’ve been attempting to obtain accurate information about our house insurance for some time now. The process has involved incorrect property details, missing documentation, formal complaints and an impressive collection of emails. The latest developments suggest that someone may finally be investigating the matter.

We’re cautiously optimistic, although experience has taught us not to become too excited until we’ve actually seen the evidence. In the meantime, we’ll continue paying the premiums. The last thing we need is another complication. And that’s quite enough bureaucracy for one week.

Back in the house, we’ve been turning our attention to winter. Not that you’d necessarily know it was approaching, given that our ceiling fans are still running towards the end of October. The days remain beautifully warm, although the mornings and evenings are beginning to remind us that the seasons are changing. Our old Andalucian townhouse has no central heating, so keeping it comfortable through the cooler months requires a little thought. We’ve been experimenting with timers, smart bulbs, plugs, heaters and various ways of managing temperature and humidity. Which has led to a rather humbling discovery. Our house is becoming considerably smarter than we are. For years, we’ve operated our dehumidifiers using what we believed was a perfectly adequate system. Press the ON button, leave them running, empty the water tanks and repeat. It turns out that these machines have other functions. Quite a few, actually. They can be programmed to maintain a particular humidity level, adjust their operation accordingly and, most astonishingly, switch themselves off when they’ve finished doing what they’re supposed to do. We’ve now set them to maintain humidity at around 55%, and for several days they’ve been doing precisely that. Without running continuously. A revelation. Particularly when we think about last winter’s electricity bills.

We’ve also been programming lights to come on and go off automatically, fitting smart plugs to lamps and introducing little devices that tell us the temperature and humidity in different rooms. The house is gradually learning to look after itself. Its owners, meanwhile, are still learning how to operate the house.

Our website design business has been getting a little bit of a refresh. After much consideration, we’ve simplified our branding, refined the colours and typography and said goodbye to a rather lovely little stork who, despite our affection for her, no longer quite belonged. Not every design idea makes the final cut, even when you love it. Sometimes knowing what to leave out is just as important as knowing what to include. Less is more. Something we keep reminding ourselves.

And there have been lovely moments on the work front, too. A particularly appreciative message from a client whose new website is almost complete reminded us why we enjoy what we do. When someone genuinely loves what you’ve created for  them, it makes all the difference. Not every working day involves navigating the absurd. Thankfully.

And then, quite unexpectedly, our week took a rather beautiful turn. Almost two years ago, I downloaded an app called Sky Tonight. I thought it might be interesting, given the enormous expanse of sky above our roof terrace. And then promptly forgot about it. Until now, when I finally opened it properly and began exploring. After a little fiddling with settings and location, I discovered that by simply pointing my phone towards the sky, I could begin identifying the stars, planets and constellations above us. The screen moved as I moved. Names appeared. Constellations took shape. Suddenly, that enormous sky we’d spent so many evenings admiring became something we could begin to understand. And I haven’t even taken it onto the roof terrace yet.

There’s something rather wonderful about discovering a completely new interest in something that’s been right above your head all along. For nearly two years, the app had been sitting quietly on my phone, waiting to be explored. And for much longer than that, the night sky has been there, waiting to be noticed in a different way.

So, after a week of websites disappearing, television pictures freezing, emails multiplying, insurance mysteries continuing and household appliances revealing previously unsuspected talents, we’ve ended up looking towards something infinitely bigger than all of it. The universe, no less. And suddenly, the frustrations of the week seem rather small. There’s a whole new world to discover above our little Andalucian house. We just have to remember to look up.

A Week in the Life of… From the utterly absurd to the unexpectedly beautiful. And everything in between. ✨