As you’ll know if you read my last blog post, where I let slip my current location towards the end, I’ve just been on a rather quick trip to England. The premise of this trip wasn’t really a happy one, as it was mainly in order to be at my Grandma’s funeral, but I was glad to be able to attend and the extra few days spent with my family were a bonus!

My trip began with a 5am start and some concern whether the flight would be going ahead, as Madrid was still plagued with piles of snow and plenty of sheet ice leftover from Storm Filomena. It was like last time I headed back, that time for Christmas, when there was some doubt over whether the new strain of the coronavirus was going to interrupt flights to and from the UK. The taxi showed up, however, and I found myself stumbling around tiredly in the cold outside Terminal 4 after checking that my flight would indeed be going ahead.

I was cold, tired, nervous, and quite lost as I looked for an open entrance.

After making a friend in the form of a bird that’d snuck into the airport and joined me at my gate, I boarded my first flight. I say first because this journey represented the first time that I’ve ever had to make a flight transfer, which would take the form of a five-hour layover in London Heathrow. This made my entire travel time some eight hours, which is quite the jump from the usual 2-and-a-bit hour direct flight from Madrid to Manchester.

I filled this time in Heathrow by searching for all of the shops that could offer me that greatest of British inventions, the meal deal. It turned out that I was stuck with only two options, WHSmith and Boots, and so killed some time choosing which sandwich-crisp-drink combo would be best. Lunch in hand, I then found a quiet corner of the departure lounge to sit out the wait, before heading on to the half-hour trip up to Manchester.

My trip started with the funeral celebrating the life of my Grandma, which was as sad as you can imagine but which I thought was a lovely, intimate, and fitting sendoff for a great woman.

We kept the service bright and colourful, just as she’d have wanted.

The following weekend we were treated to a decent snowfall, and so the day after, my parents and I ventured out to stroll over the countryside. I took plenty of photos during this two-hour walk, during which we ran into a flock of very inquisitive sheep, who seemed convinced that we’d come to give them something to eat.

As you can see, I took almost all my photos from the trip during this little snowy wander. This wasn’t just because it was the prettiest moment of the little visit to England, but because I spent the next week connected to work for a lot of busy and rather long days. It was an absolute luxury, however, to then have my mum’s fresh home-made meals for tea every night once I’d finished!

After signing off from work on the Friday, I had to pack my bags as quickly as possible for my early start on the Saturday. The journey back was once again split into two flights, but with just an hour to make the transfer in London. This turned into a mere half hour with a delay taking off from Manchester, and I wound up having to run full-tilt through Heathrow Terminal 5 in order to make it to my gate – as I was disembarking the first flight, the screens were already showing that my second was closing!

I arrived just yesterday back in Madrid, after some very stringent immigration and COVID-19-related checks at the border. Although this little trip home had a rather sad purpose initially, I did appreciate the time spent with my family, and I’m counting my lucky stars that I was able to get over during all the travel chaos that the new waves of the virus are causing. It’s looking like I won’t be able to head back over for quite a while now! Until then…

We’re now three weeks into 2021, and the year has already begun with all guns blazing, from drama in the US, a polar storm hitting Madrid for the first time since the 60s, and the sad passing of my Grandma. I’ve been back here in Spain for about three weeks now, and quite a lot has happened in such a short time!

At work, the year’s begun on a rather busy note, with plenty of projects and new challenges to get our teeth stuck into. Erretres have given us plenty of flexibility to come into the office or work from home as and when, which has been absolutely great, but I’ve actually gone with the former option of commuting to and from the office every day. As I mentioned back when lockdown first begun, the mental separation of my workspace and a relaxing space is very important to me, and it’s allowed my flat to become a cozy space for kicking back once again…

Evenings of relaxation must be lit by a bubblegum colour palette.

The big news over the past couple of weeks, however, has to have been the blizzard that passed through Madrid, and which has been causing absolute and unfettered bedlam ever since. I was shocked to learn that said storm had been named Borrasca Filomena, “Storm Philomena” – the name of my grandma who passed away over New Year. I knew she wouldn’t go out without causing a bit of chaos!

And, well, chaos she did cause. I began the weekend completely clueless as to the fact that Madrid was bracing for such a cold front, and so casually headed down to IKEA in the south of the city to hunt for a new table after I sat on my old one and broke it. It was snowing when I left the house, but I just assumed that Madrid would receive a meager few flakes which would linger around for all of five minutes…

Well, I arrived at the Metro stop in the south to find that this snowfall did, in fact, seem to be sticking around, and had to half-battle my way through an increasingly forceful bluster which was ensuring that every surface was dusted with a decent sprinkling of snow. I then arrived in the shopping centre to find a distinct lack of people and most of the shops either closed or frantically shuttering their entrances, which seemed odd for 7pm on a Friday evening.

Some shoppers panicked, some cooly ordered a cone of freshly fried churros.

I continued through the shopping centre and on to the IKEA at the other end, where things also seemed strangely quiet. At first, it was quite the enjoyable experience: with hardly anyone around, I could try out all the sofas and tables that I liked without having to look over my shoulder every two minutes to check I was properly socially distancing – just like the good old days!

Then, around the kitchen section, things started to feel off. I was wandering round a pretty empty showroom – even the staff seemed to have disappeared. Soon came the inevitable announcement: they were closing the shop early due to the inclement weather. Having been reminded of such announcements in the theme parks in Florida, I headed towards the exit, abandoning the table and picking up some easier-to-transport plants instead.

It was then, when I stepped outside, that the gravity of what was going on suddenly hit home. I’d been isolated inside IKEA’s steel box for a mere hour or so, but the conditions outside had worsened dramatically. A good couple of inches of snow now covered everything, and there was no sign that the blizzard-like conditions were going to let up. The car park was all but empty, with the few cars that did remain slipping and sliding their ways to the exits. I made off to the Metro station with haste, hoping that it’s subterranean nature would mean that it wasn’t affected by the weather, but even getting there was a struggle as I battled against strong winds and horizontal snowfall which seemed intent on hitting me square in the face.

Thankfully I managed to get back to my local Metro station, Delicias, but I was met with quite the shock as I resurfaced. Up until arriving back in the centre, I had been wondering if the area around IKEA was just being disproportionally affected by the snow due to its southern location and more rural setting. This theory was disproven, as I say, when I was met by a street which mirrored the scenes of the IKEA car park. I cautiously made my way to my flat, stopping only to grab a chicken wrap from a local Lebanese bar. Once inside, I buttoned down the hatches, turned the heating up, and headed off to bed wondering what the next day would bring.

As my flat isn’t exterior-facing, I awoke with very few clues as to what the situation looked like out on the streets. The only clue I had was the drifts of snow which had built up over my neighbors’ windowsills overnight. After some mooching around (it was a Saturday morning after all), I decided to head out and see what the deal was with this much-talked-about snowfall.

As you can see, the scenes I was greeted with were positively apocalyptic. Huge branches had snapped off with the weight of the snow and were now lying on cars and across roads, whilst snow drifts had half buried pretty much everything else. Some families had headed out to build snowmen or hold a snowball fight, but most of the people out on the streets were like me: wandering around in circles taking in these rare scenes.

The cold soon got a bit too much for me, however, and the last straw came when I accidentally put my foot through half a meter of snow that had built up over the hole in the pavement where they plant the trees. This left my boot soggy and me in a bad mood, so I headed home to dry off before heading back out to the supermarket. This turned out to be another pointless loop around the neighborhood, as the Mercadona had closed early due to the weather, so I headed back home and made do with some tinned soup.

Being cold and wet is nothing that some nice lighting and candles can’t fix.

Once the winter weekend was over, I thought that the heavy snowfall would soon melt and that the chaos would fade from memory, but I was rather mistaken. Monday’s trip to the office was an exercise in trying to not fall flat on my face whilst navigating a downhill-sloping ice rink, and the conditions only seemed to worsen as the week went on, with bags of rubbish and ice piling up in the streets and perilous chunks of snow and ice crashing to the ground from the rooftops.

Then, and with another working week wrapped up, it was time to kick back for a chill weekend. I kicked things off on Friday, where I headed out for a lovely Catalan tapas-style meal with my colleague Jesús. The next day, I headed down to ex-colleague Luis’ new flat, where he was moving his plants in ahead of his big move to my neighborhood the week after.

After a glass of wine and some cured meats in a lovely local wine bar, I left Luis to visit Napo at Five Guys, where we’d arranged to have a burger and catch up after the last time we saw each other just before I headed off to England for Christmas. The Sunday evening then saw me head out for more food, this time with Sara. We spent an evening atop El Corte Inglés in Callao, snacking on various pinchos, before heading into the centre for a few drinks on a terrace in one of the city’s many plazas.

This lovely weekend then led me into a week which has been quite the adventure, but which I’ll have to now leave until the next blog post. All I’ve to say is that I’m back in England whilst I write this blog post to give you a good idea of how disrupted it’s been! Until then…

My previous blog post, as I mentioned at its conclusion, was the first of a two-part installation on my trip back home for Christmas and New Year. We left things off during an action-packed Christmas Day, but after this date, our activities were decidedly more sedate for the second week of my time back in the UK due to some news we received on Boxing Day.

On the 26th, we were contacted with the news that my grandma had contracted COVID-19. My parents went to visit her, but me and my sister were unable to due to the poor state of the coronavirus situation in the UK. The next few days were then understandably muted as my parents continued to visit her, with only the occasional walk around our local area as a family to keep our minds occupied.

Although the mood was understandably sombre, I have to say that I’ve never seen such beautiful scenes around the village I grew up in, Worsthorne. We were treated to a few days of snow and some absolutely glorious winter sunsets, which combined to create some stunning views as we meandered through the countryside.

As these days running up to the New Year were otherwise spent together as a family, and because I’ve so many photos of these outdoor moments to share, I’ll share the majority of these photos in an uninterrupted stream before talking about the New Year towards the end of the post.

As you can see, we really were treated to some breathtaking sights in these last few days running up to the New Year! Any plans we may have had for the evening had to be put aside, however, when we were told that my Grandma’s condition had worsened. With my parents once again visiting my Grandma, I welcomed in the New Year by watching the fireworks on the BBC before heading off to bed.

The next day, the first of the New Year, I awoke to the news that my grandma had sadly passed away.

Rather than speak of the next few days I spent in England, I’d like to take a moment to say a few words about my Grandma Mena. Many of you will have never had the luck of meeting her, and those who did will have many a great memory and funny story, so I’ll try to keep it brief here.

Grandma Mena was probably one of the most influential people in my life. From a love of lightbulbs to a hatred of bananas, she had a huge role in shaping me into the person I am today – I feel like I spent so much of my time as a child with her that it was impossible for her not to!

Whilst I was just a baby, she’d often turn the lights in a room on and off, chanting “light, light!” as she did so. The first word I ever uttered was then some simple version of “light” rather than the usual “mama” or “papa”, something I’m sure my parents weren’t best pleased about! From these silly beginnings, I developed an appreciation of and love for all things related to lights – something I still hold to this day. It’s the reason I use a lightbulb as my logo – a logo which now has minimal presence on my website, but which I will be using to sign off this blog post.

I should also probably explain the banana anecdote. If not by my grandma’s seeming desire to blow every lightbulb in our house, my mum was certainly driven up the wall by my grandma’s insistence on feeding me bananas every five minutes. My mum would leave me with Grandma Mena for five minutes, and she’d return to find me with mushy banana slopped all down my bib. When my mum would challenge her about this and ask if she’d fed me yet another banana, she’d respond with an incredulous “no!”

These are two little anecdotes which I think perfectly illustrate the two things I’d like to tell the world about my grandma: her big influence on me in all the best ways, and her warm, caring, and often cheeky personality.

Everybody knew her as a strong-willed Irishwoman who’d just as soon give you a bite of whatever she was eating as she’d stop for a chat with every other person in the street. She certainly faced hardships in her life, from immigrating as a young girl to losing her husband young, and then later the failing of her eyesight and eventually her memory.

Despite all this, however, her mischievous sense of humor and love for everyone around persevered until the very end, and will be forever present in fond memories and hilarious catchphrases that she gifted us over the years! I’m not a religious person, and so I believe that my grandma is now gone from this world, but I take great comfort in the knowledge that her legacy will be passed down through the generations. As I said at the beginning – and whether it’s a love of lights or a distaste for bananas – her impact will live on through me, and I’m sure through many others.

I conclude this brief celebration of her life in the way she signed off everything she ever wrote to me:

God bless.

In my last blog post before setting off for my Christmas holidays in England, I said that I’d be headed off to a Tier 3 lockdown back in my hometown. Well, how wrong was I!

As I prepared to leave for my Christmas holidays, I could never have imagined the chaos that was about to kick off, with the grim news of the new strain of the virus being discovered in London and the subsequent introduction of a stricter new Tier 4. The day I flew, I tried to read as little of the news as possible, as the list of countries who were banning travel from the UK seemed to be growing by the minute as I approached the airport. I knew I’d get over to England, but the question was whether I was going to be able to return to Spain…

I must leave you all with that little cliffhanger for now, for I’ve gotten ahead of myself: we must first talk about the last-minute festivities which I enjoyed in Madrid just before I left!

My final week at work rolled around, and with it a surprise Christmas hamper full of delicious treats which Erretres gifted us all. This happy little surprise kicked off a few days spent dining and drinking with friends, starting with some beers with Bogar and Hugo at a little local spot in Malasaña.

The evening continued with a pizza reunion with ex-colleague Helena, which suffered a last-minute change when the pizzeria we’d selected was at its coronavirus capacity. This took us for some beers at an old bar, where a crazy stroke of luck meant I bumped into Sofía, another ex-colleague who was visiting from the north of Spain for just a few days!

Nothing like a good beer after my last day of work.

The next day rolled around and there was no letting up, as I’d planned to have a buffet-style evening meal with Sara and Jhosef. I threw together a classic British-party-style platter of different sandwiches as well as some crisps, sweets, and balls of chocolate turrón. With a couple of vermouths in hand, the three of us then chatted the evening away, stopping later on for a bite of roscón (a traditional yuletide food in Spain) and some hot chocolate.

A rather early alarm jolted me from my slumber on the Sunday after, as I’d to be ready to receive a FaceTime call from my sister in order to virtually attend my mum’s retirement surprise! Once I’d finished watching her come out to discover an array of balloons and gifts, I had to shift myself from my bed stat, for I’d a lot to squeeze in to that so-called day of rest…

After a morning spent washing clothes, drying sheets, packing my bags, and cleaning my entire flat from top to bottom, I’d certainly deserved a nice lunch out. That’s just what I then proceeded to do, meeting Napo at NAP Pizza in Lavapiés, where a wait to be seated turned out to be a blessing in disguise.

Once seated, the two of us tucked into some of Madrid’s best and most authentic Italian pizza, catching up on the past few weeks of each other’s dramas a mere few hours before I was due to fly. I had my favorite white pizza (a pizza with no tomato base), the house special, and then headed out nervously back home to finish the last bits of packing and leave for the airport.

A pizza with Napo was a great way to end the last weekend of 2020.

As I mentioned earlier, there was never going to be any issue in getting to England, it was the trip back that I was concerned about. This meant that the flight home was as normal as it could be given the current state of affairs, and after taking some flights this summer, I was pretty unfazed by the new normality in the airport and on the plane.

I landed back in the UK just after midnight, where I was met by the entire Briggs household: my mum, dad, and sister. Needless to say we didn’t stay up long, heading off to bed for a decent night’s kip before the festive preparations began!

My first bit of Christmas cheer came in the form of a very socially-distanced gift swap with Abi and Danni, which took place in the windy heights of Hurstwood. This marked the first of a series of walks that took me “over the tops” as we say, and I took an interesting photo of one of the reservoirs on that cloudy afternoon…

Our next family outing took place on Christmas Eve, where we once again stomped our way up a tiny dirt-track road over the moors. Although I moaned a lot about not being accustomed to so much walking, my little village and the sweeping expanses of fields through which we passed did look quite resplendent in the low winter sun.

Worsthorne Church is always a friendly sight when I arrive home.

We were ready for a big mug of tea and some cake after our walk, and thankfully we were able to indulge in just that, as my mum had ordered a set of festive cupcakes from the wonderful Bella’s Bakes. The sweet treats were absolutely delicious, and we certainly needed the energy, for next up in our Christmas plans we had a socially-distanced carol concert to attend in the village square!

Naturally we arrived late to said carol concert, so by the time we got there it was time for Saint Nick to pass through on his sleigh (which looked suspiciously like a trailer, but he does work in mysterious ways!). We managed to sing along to one of the last little songs, but the main joy of the evening was just being able to see people coming together – albeit maintaining social distancing – to celebrate Christmas.

Upon arriving home we were then in for yet another Christmas Eve treat, in the form of my mum’s new Briggs family tradition of opening a few small presents on Christmas Eve. This year she’d outdone herself, with lovely paper bags full of all sorts of goodies set atop the red paper tabletop – a necessity when taking into account the other Briggs family tradition on Christmas Eve: a curry for tea!

My table decorations and mum’s bags made for a very festive scene.

After opening our gifts and wolfing down a delicious curry, it was time to head off to bed and hope that Santa would bring us some goodies the day after! This he did indeed, and we spent a good hour or so unwrapping and consuming some of the edible presents that we’d all received for our traditional breakfast of selection box chocolates on Christmas Day.

For lunch there was another staple of a Briggs Christmas: a delicious cream of cauliflower soup. This staple of our festive menu is usually prepared by a friend of the family, but this year she was under the weather, and so my mum had to step in and whip up the recipe herself. It was a great success, but left us all rather bloated, and so we headed off for something which I’d have previously objected to most strongly: a Christmas Day walk.

This turned out to be not so much a walk as a photo shoot, as the sunset that evening over the reservoir turned out to be a corker. I spent a good thirty minutes at the water’s edge taking photos of the colours that formed in the afternoon sky, which was enough time for my mum and sister to walk the entire perimeter of the reservoir.

Once back indoors, it was time for our delicious Christmas Dinner in the evening, consisting of turkey and all the trimmings. This was all topped off with one of the best looking (and tasting) trifles that my mum’s ever put together: we even managed to throw enough sherry in it such that it could actually be tasted!

All of this brings us to the end of Christmas Day and the end of part one of my reporting from my two weeks in the UK. There’s plenty more photos to share from the snowy scenes which came after the 25th, but those will have to wait for next time…