I can truly tell you that our horrible experience is over. But I can also say that no horrid experience ever leaves without a trace. The scars still remain deep inside us all. The hurt is still there, all those questions remain, such as; 'How could they deprive us of our rights in an Eu country? Why did this happen to us? What did we do wrong?' We still ask ourselves those questions. We will never ever receive a decent explanation from anyone. Life goes on.
But we are happy in our home now. It took us a long time to get used to using more than one appliance at once. Even now I sometimes forget that I have the ability to do that, and I turn off one light switch before I turn on another. Eight months of training doesn't go away that quickly.
I still suffer anxiety attacks, but to a much lesser degree. If the power goes out, I get a rush of fear, and my heart palpitates. I can no longer wire up sockets or touch cables without feeling faint. My son is coping much better at school, and no longer locks himself away in his room. My husband can concentrate better at work, and is no longer in danger of losing his job because of his depression and the trauma we faced every day.
Thanks to God we have come through, if not unscathed, then as the people we once were before the experience began. I am a writer. That is what I do. I am a paid writer. I could not work during those eight months (lack of access for one reason, and also because I was too ill at the time and could not cope or concentrate.) Now I am back into the swing of things and working on a new book with a co-author. I am also singing again and recording a new album, (recording music is something I have done for years,) which also came to an abrupt halt once we moved in and my computer sat gathering dust in the attic.
Finally, my husband and I are hoping to have a baby this year. Something we could not at all consider when we moved in. We want nothing more than to live our lives in peace and harmony.
We want to enjoy Spain and everything good that it has to offer. We are no longer locked in that bitter and angry world. In fact, we have more or less forgiven our perpetrators; the local council, (who don't even know our names or how much we have suffered.)
Finally, the reason I named this blog "Completely Unspanish," is because that is what many expat publications told me, when I tired to get my story onto papers or magazines for the sake of other buyers.
Here is what one said:
"We cannot publish this story due to its content being a rare situation and 'completely unspanish'; detrimental to the tourist industry, and the livelihood of the healthy spanish property market."
In my online research I have discovered sad stories such as this one:
"In the north of spain up to fifty british families live for two years on a developers supply of electricity whilst the council refuses to issue a Licence of Occupation, due to the entire development being constructed on illegal land. The families (mostly british) were forced to gather water from a nearby well in order to survive. The developers are now threatening to pull away, taking their temporary electrical supply with them. The council consider demolishing the development, leaving the families stranded and homeless."
Plus, who can forget the recent council arrests in Marbella?
My incident is not 'rare'. and most certainly not unspanish! The situation is alive and thriving. As I write this blog, others are about to fall into the same trap my family did. Read my blog, do your research and breath a sigh of relief, if you are nowhere near this sort of tragedy.
Thursday, April 5, 2007
A Chapter Closed
A couple of days after our water was connected (on that Friday morning, two minutes before the office shut... bless them!) we received our proper electricity connection. The electricity man turned up, tutted at all the messy cables in the street and fiddled with our box for about five minutes, and finally we had decent power.
There were no fireworks, no blaring sirens, no street party or whoops of joy. It all happened so fast it was as if the past year had been nothing more than a bad dream. Quicker than a blink, the box outside was carted away in a van and all the cables were removed, leaving no trace or evidence of the miserable lifestyle we had endured for the past eight months.
As it happens, electricity isn't exactly an exciting thing, but for us that particular day was an absolute riot of happiness. We turned on every light, boiled the kettle, switched on the washing machine, turned on the microwave, the TV and the radio all in one go and - danced, danced, danced!!
8 months and 22 days later, we had survived and reached the end of our nightmare.
There were no fireworks, no blaring sirens, no street party or whoops of joy. It all happened so fast it was as if the past year had been nothing more than a bad dream. Quicker than a blink, the box outside was carted away in a van and all the cables were removed, leaving no trace or evidence of the miserable lifestyle we had endured for the past eight months.
As it happens, electricity isn't exactly an exciting thing, but for us that particular day was an absolute riot of happiness. We turned on every light, boiled the kettle, switched on the washing machine, turned on the microwave, the TV and the radio all in one go and - danced, danced, danced!!
8 months and 22 days later, we had survived and reached the end of our nightmare.
Part 15 - Lawyers - who'd have em?
The morning following the disaster of having no water again, we finally contacted our lawyer with sheer desperation in our voices. It was a Friday.
"Look," we told him. "We have no running water in the house or access to water at all. Even the tap outside is cut off. We have been told that we can register with the water company now."
"You can?" he asked, surprise showing in his voice. I gritted my teeth. I wanted to murder him.
"Well, wait until monday," he replied. "I'll do it on Monday."
"MONDAY" we screamed down the phone. "It's Friday, we can't be left all weekend with nothing but bottled water. "
"I can't arrange it until Monday," was his reply and he hung up.
I would have killed that man if he was standing in front of me. I wanted to lock him in a cage without water. Let him see how it feels to live in fear like that for eight months (well almost nine by then.) We had waited so long for a water connection, and he acted as if we were quibbling over something silly and unimportant. We had PAID him nearly nine months ago to sort out the paperwork, and yet he wanted us to sit and wait another two days in the stifling summer heat.
I grabbed my bag and headed out of the door. "Come on let's go," I told my husband. "We'll do it ourselves."
I was a woman with a mission and nothing was going to stand in my way. I had one hour to try and get something done, knowing full well that spanish offices close around 1.00 pm. I hadn't moved so fast since I was a teenager in the high school running marathon.
I finally found the water company and threw myself inside. The office looked something like a hole in the wall in a pebbled old street. Had the door been shut I might have squatted outside with a signpost. Nevertheless, it was open and I ran inside, and almost assaulted the guy at the desk. My face was puffy and red with sweat and anger. He looked at me like I was a complete nutter.
"Please sir, we really need to connect our water in our home." I begged
He turned away and handed me a form to write down the address and details, which I did with a trembling hand.
"Thank you," he smiled quietly. "Probably Monday morning we will come and put in the meter."
My face fell with shock. "Probably Monday????"
"Look here, " I said to him. "We have waited nearly NINE months for this, can you PLEASE do it today. This is WATER we're talking about not a bloody piece of furniture!"
He stared at me for a moment. "I know about that," he said, clicking his tongue in disapproval. "OK, we try to go to your house today, but we close in ten minutes."
"Please...we are just down the road!!" I shouted frantically as my husband tried to push me out of the door. There was nothing more we could do. I would have paid that man any amount of money by that point, just to get it done. I was so sick of it all. I wanted out. I wanted it OVER.
As for our lawyer, I never spoke to that man again, and the unexpected anxiety attacks are something I must live with now permanently.
"Look," we told him. "We have no running water in the house or access to water at all. Even the tap outside is cut off. We have been told that we can register with the water company now."
"You can?" he asked, surprise showing in his voice. I gritted my teeth. I wanted to murder him.
"Well, wait until monday," he replied. "I'll do it on Monday."
"MONDAY" we screamed down the phone. "It's Friday, we can't be left all weekend with nothing but bottled water. "
"I can't arrange it until Monday," was his reply and he hung up.
I would have killed that man if he was standing in front of me. I wanted to lock him in a cage without water. Let him see how it feels to live in fear like that for eight months (well almost nine by then.) We had waited so long for a water connection, and he acted as if we were quibbling over something silly and unimportant. We had PAID him nearly nine months ago to sort out the paperwork, and yet he wanted us to sit and wait another two days in the stifling summer heat.
I grabbed my bag and headed out of the door. "Come on let's go," I told my husband. "We'll do it ourselves."
I was a woman with a mission and nothing was going to stand in my way. I had one hour to try and get something done, knowing full well that spanish offices close around 1.00 pm. I hadn't moved so fast since I was a teenager in the high school running marathon.
I finally found the water company and threw myself inside. The office looked something like a hole in the wall in a pebbled old street. Had the door been shut I might have squatted outside with a signpost. Nevertheless, it was open and I ran inside, and almost assaulted the guy at the desk. My face was puffy and red with sweat and anger. He looked at me like I was a complete nutter.
"Please sir, we really need to connect our water in our home." I begged
He turned away and handed me a form to write down the address and details, which I did with a trembling hand.
"Thank you," he smiled quietly. "Probably Monday morning we will come and put in the meter."
My face fell with shock. "Probably Monday????"
"Look here, " I said to him. "We have waited nearly NINE months for this, can you PLEASE do it today. This is WATER we're talking about not a bloody piece of furniture!"
He stared at me for a moment. "I know about that," he said, clicking his tongue in disapproval. "OK, we try to go to your house today, but we close in ten minutes."
"Please...we are just down the road!!" I shouted frantically as my husband tried to push me out of the door. There was nothing more we could do. I would have paid that man any amount of money by that point, just to get it done. I was so sick of it all. I wanted out. I wanted it OVER.
As for our lawyer, I never spoke to that man again, and the unexpected anxiety attacks are something I must live with now permanently.
Part 14 - The shocking climax!
It was a Thursday morning in late August 2006, and the sun poured into our beautiful home. I got up and made my way downstairs to fill the kettle, hoping as I did every morning that the box outside was working that day.
I turned on the tap, but nothing more than a drip came out. My heart leapt out of my chest. Running up the stairs as fast as I could, I shook my sleepy husband awake.
"Oh my God, they've done it. They've cut us off." My face revealed my panic and I began breathing rapidly and entering a typical anxious state. I scarpered around looking for my pills.
"DON'T PANIC" my husband shouted. He himself, starting to panic frantically.
"Perhaps its just a normal water cut, they have happened before haven't they?" he said.
I had to agree. We had a few days where there was no water going to any house in the street, and everyone worried bitterly if the water company had finally taken their revenge. But after some hours the water taps would gurgle and it would spurt out again, with everyone breathing a huge sigh of relief. It was always like that, no one could relax. We just never knew!
We waited until 2.00 pm, pacing the house, pretending to ourselves and each other that all was ok, when really our nerves were on fire. By 5.00 pm, and still with no water we started to sweat even more with fear, (not really a great thing to do under the circumstances.) I needed a shower more than ever. I finally burst into tears and my husband grabbed the phone and called the lawyer.
No reply.
We jumped into the car and made our way to Carrefour to stock up on many litres of mineral water. We had thrown our old buckets away and purchased two new ones. We felt we were going backwards and having to resume that unbearable situation all over again.
Oddly, there was no-one present in the street at all, and I wondered if the residents that had moved in, had all packed up and finally left. However at 7.00 pm I spotted one lady exit from her house across the street. I decided to be brave and approach her. With my limited spanish I asked her what was happening with the water.
"Don't you know?" she asked me.
"Know what?" I replied with fear.
"The Licence of Occupation has been issued. You have to go and register with the water company to get your connection."
I stood silent for a long time, my mouth gaping open in shock.
"Register? You mean that we can? Finally?"
"Yes, finally," she said.
I walked back to my house and told my husband the news. He was as shocked as I was.
"Well why didn't they tell us anything?" my anger rose again. "They cut us off without TELLING US anything in mid AUGUST?"
"What do you expect?" he said. "Did you expect them to call us and say, "We're cutting off your illegal supply now, so you can come down to the office and pay for it."
The ITV programme had embarrassed the council. They had finally decided to issue the pathetic piece of paper so that we could get our connections. I'm still trying to get hold of a copy of that document so that I can frame it and set up a shrine. I mean after all, it was something we had been fighting for all that time.
I turned on the tap, but nothing more than a drip came out. My heart leapt out of my chest. Running up the stairs as fast as I could, I shook my sleepy husband awake.
"Oh my God, they've done it. They've cut us off." My face revealed my panic and I began breathing rapidly and entering a typical anxious state. I scarpered around looking for my pills.
"DON'T PANIC" my husband shouted. He himself, starting to panic frantically.
"Perhaps its just a normal water cut, they have happened before haven't they?" he said.
I had to agree. We had a few days where there was no water going to any house in the street, and everyone worried bitterly if the water company had finally taken their revenge. But after some hours the water taps would gurgle and it would spurt out again, with everyone breathing a huge sigh of relief. It was always like that, no one could relax. We just never knew!
We waited until 2.00 pm, pacing the house, pretending to ourselves and each other that all was ok, when really our nerves were on fire. By 5.00 pm, and still with no water we started to sweat even more with fear, (not really a great thing to do under the circumstances.) I needed a shower more than ever. I finally burst into tears and my husband grabbed the phone and called the lawyer.
No reply.
We jumped into the car and made our way to Carrefour to stock up on many litres of mineral water. We had thrown our old buckets away and purchased two new ones. We felt we were going backwards and having to resume that unbearable situation all over again.
Oddly, there was no-one present in the street at all, and I wondered if the residents that had moved in, had all packed up and finally left. However at 7.00 pm I spotted one lady exit from her house across the street. I decided to be brave and approach her. With my limited spanish I asked her what was happening with the water.
"Don't you know?" she asked me.
"Know what?" I replied with fear.
"The Licence of Occupation has been issued. You have to go and register with the water company to get your connection."
I stood silent for a long time, my mouth gaping open in shock.
"Register? You mean that we can? Finally?"
"Yes, finally," she said.
I walked back to my house and told my husband the news. He was as shocked as I was.
"Well why didn't they tell us anything?" my anger rose again. "They cut us off without TELLING US anything in mid AUGUST?"
"What do you expect?" he said. "Did you expect them to call us and say, "We're cutting off your illegal supply now, so you can come down to the office and pay for it."
The ITV programme had embarrassed the council. They had finally decided to issue the pathetic piece of paper so that we could get our connections. I'm still trying to get hold of a copy of that document so that I can frame it and set up a shrine. I mean after all, it was something we had been fighting for all that time.
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