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2012 Mother is 101 and enjoying life
Maria Gonzaez born 31.5.2011
Enjoying her new toy Pluto
Maria
María el día de su boda el 31 de Diciembre de 1931María Generosa Gónzalez García
Nació el 31 de Mayo de 1911
en Santibañez de la Fuente Aller Asturias.
Hija de Jesús y Severa. Eran 6 hermanos: Jerónimo,María, Tina, Lourdes, Manuela y Jesús. Y un nieto inesperado al que todas reconocían como un hermano mas José Luis.
María es la mayor de los hermanos y ha sobrevivido a 5 de ellos. Trabajaban en la labranza y ganadería y por aquellos montes de la Cordillera Cantábrica conociendo mas penas que alegrías.
Los pastos para el ganado en las montañas son escasos y lejanos de la población. Era común para los niños de 7 u 8 años pasarse 3 meses de invierno sin bajar a ver a sus padres ni atender el colegio. Su entretenimiento era cuidar de las vacas y las ovejas que constantemente se extriavaban entre la niebla y la lluvia. Lloraban, se pegaban, pasaban frió, miedo y hambre y también se reían de vez en cuando con la alegría de los pocos años que tenían.
María fue al colegio durante unos meses esporádicamente y aprendió a leer y a escribir. No todas las niñas de esta época fueron tan aplicadas y afortunadas.
Horrio construido por el abuelo
Elena, Lourdes, Abuela Severa y Manuela
Casa de la Llana, primer sueño en La Fuente
Se caso con Jesús el día 31 de Diciembre de 1931, y tuvieron 5 hijos.
Jesús, María, Lourdes, Manuel, Agustina y Amelia
Segundo sueño
Trabajaron muy duro y construyeron una casa con cinco plantas y diez viviendas para alquilar.
Casa de María y Jesús en Collanzo Aller. (1945)
Lourdes,Manuel,Ángeles María y Jesús (Año 1966)
Las vicisitudes de l vida, los cambios políticos, la guerra civil y la dictadura, truncaron sus sueños y también sus esperanzas en repetidas ocasiones. Tuvieron que rehacer sus vidas varias veces y empezar de la nada. La patria tan querida se portó mal con la mayoría de sus ciudadanos y no recompensó a aquellos que tan duro habían trabajado.
Una vez más entre los dos edificaron otra casa.
(1965)
(La obsesión de los españoles en tener casa propia está ligada a nuestras vidas )
Con un esfuerzo colosal, ayudo a Jesús a construir de nuevo su casa, y entre los dos lo consiguieron.
Educaron a sus hijos y procuraron encaminarlos con una profesión. Las dos hijas mayores se cualificaron con distinción como profesoras de corte y confección. Se instalaron por cuenta propia como Academia de Corte y Confección Las Asturianas.
Día de Santa Lucia patrona de las modistas.
Las Asturianas Ángeles y Lourdes 
A family picture 2011
Familia de Jesús Suárez y María González
In this picture I can see the passing of time. It is regretable to realise that two dear people are no longer with us.
Esta foto demuestra el paso del tiempo y la nostalgia de otra época. Desafortunadamente cuando todos estábamos en la plenitud de nuestra juventud no nos dábamos cuenta de nuestra fortuna por causa de las preocupaciones económicas y la incertidumbre del mañana. Hoy y cuarenta años mas tarde la foto real ya no es completa, ni refleja la realidad, la vejez y la enfermedad ha rebajado el numero de siete a cinco... Hoy la incertidumbre económica es inferior, pero los años acarrean otras preocupaciones
Retirement July 2010
It is a strange feeling having come this far. When one is young or middle age one never thinks that retirement day will come, but it does, to a great majority of the population.
My working life expands a period of 46 years,this must seem very odd to the 8o´s generation. How much pension are these people of today going to accumulate? Not very much, unless working longer years is taken as an option. I for one much prefer to have worked when I was young and had energy in abundance, in later years this source is less efficient and work must be hard going.
I have now retired to Spain, mostly to look after my mother who is 99 years old.
I have now retired to Spain, mostly to look after my mother who is 99 years old.
I consider myself very lucky to have a mother and being retired at the same time. This too is a luxury that one could not have hoped for. She is relatively well and manages a daily walk to the coffee shop "Manolo´s " with great enthusiasm. She also waits with great expectation while either my sister Tina or myself butter her 3 slices of toast and spread with jam for her enjoyment. She prepares her coffee with one sachet of decaffeinated coffee and one sachet of sweetener while we spread the jam as fast as possible for she is ready to tuck into it. Finally she has the added treat of a mini croissant which in this particular coffee shop is truly delicious.
It is early days to describe my feeling about retirement. Life appears to have no meaning and one questions the monotony of three meals a day and snacks in between! When at work, eating has a different meaning, one eats in order to see someone, or to be seen, if in the process you enjoy your lunch it is an added bonus, but now lunch is for real, you prepare it and you seat down to eat it in earnest, nothing happens around it, no emotions are involved in the process, only food in front of you is the target!
This is an education that has to be learnt all over again.
It is early days to describe my feeling about retirement. Life appears to have no meaning and one questions the monotony of three meals a day and snacks in between! When at work, eating has a different meaning, one eats in order to see someone, or to be seen, if in the process you enjoy your lunch it is an added bonus, but now lunch is for real, you prepare it and you seat down to eat it in earnest, nothing happens around it, no emotions are involved in the process, only food in front of you is the target!
This is an education that has to be learnt all over again.
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Cafe Nova Interchange boss Amelia Suarez retires to Spain
Wednesday 28 July 2010
London SE1 website team
Amelia Suarez, who founded and ran the Cafe Nova Interchange social enterprise at Elephant & Castle Shopping Centre, is retiring to Spain.
Simon Hughes MP was among the well-wishers at her farewell event."The Elephant will simply not be the same without Amelia," says Simon Hughes MP.
"She is a fantastic member of our local community and I have always been really impressed with how hard working and determined she is.
"Cafe Nova Interchange has been the venue for many of my advice surgeries over the years and local residents and I have always been most warmly welcomed.
"The community and I will miss her greatly and I wish her the happiest possible retirement."
Madrid-born Amelia, a former catering manager at St Thomas' Hospital, started the business in 1997 as a training scheme for people with learning and physical disabilities.
Since 2001 the business has traded from the first floor of the Elephant & Castle Shopping Centre, and after a recent refit now has a smarter look and feel.
Stomach pain,discomfort
Stomach pain, discomfort
Hazel Nuts natural (natural)
I like to inform the whole world about Hazel Nuts for Stomach Pain and Irritable Bowl Syndrome.
For 19 years I have suffered from acidity, stomach pain and irritable bowl syndrome.
I have had several endoscopy and taken the medication available for this illness. Nothing worked.
Recently I was told by an elderly lady that natural Hazel nuts were very good for stomach pain and tummy discomfort.
Before going to bed take 6 or 8 hazel nuts and chew properly. After meals eat a few too and please let me know if it works. I now sleep 10 hours per night without pain.
Hazel Nuts natural (natural)
I like to inform the whole world about Hazel Nuts for Stomach Pain and Irritable Bowl Syndrome.
For 19 years I have suffered from acidity, stomach pain and irritable bowl syndrome.
I have had several endoscopy and taken the medication available for this illness. Nothing worked.
Recently I was told by an elderly lady that natural Hazel nuts were very good for stomach pain and tummy discomfort.
Before going to bed take 6 or 8 hazel nuts and chew properly. After meals eat a few too and please let me know if it works. I now sleep 10 hours per night without pain.
London 1976-81
I worked at the London Clinic for two years and managed to find a accommodation in Camden Town in a nice house, 336 Camden Road.
I sold my car as I could not park it anywhere and bought myself a bicycle. During this period I continued going to English classes and my commitment to survive and improve my knowledge never left me. Other people at the Clinic or at the Hospital had different agendas and accepted cleaning jobs to enhance their pay. I had no family commitments and no need to do this. At the Clinic we had weekly pay and meals included during our working hours. This allowed us a good living and I managed to make some savings for a rainy day. I visited my parents every year in Spain and kept in close contact with my family who was faring well.
This was a good time I was by now 29 years old. My marriage intentions had always been non existent, and the idea did not rob me anytime.
Celines and I decided to look for a house and get a mortgage. (Now, in 2010, that we are suffering the global crisis I realise how wise it was not to give anyone asking for a mortgage more than three times their salary) By doing this the allowance left was just enough to survive if one was careful. Through my landlord, Mr Sarkas who was a developer, builder etc. a house was found in the vicinity of Camden Road. A freehold detached house with three floors .The purchase prise was 6000 English pounds. An elderly lady was a sitting tenant in one of the flats and the banks wanted the whole amount for this purchase. We could have put together 3800 but the rest we could not find anywhere. (This house today in 2010 is worth more than a million pounds, and the sitting tenant died two years later. Such is life!)
Assessing my life I could draw a good balance. I had been in the country 12 years and had had several jobs that gave me confidence and the ability needed to continue in my line of work, catering or domestic service. I had been on a dream holiday to Italy, I had most years a month holiday with my family, I had learnt to drive, I had bought a car, I had savings and I had found a place to leave separate from my employment. Life was much better than 12 years earlier when I left Spain with very few skills, no money or prospects.
From the London Clinic a friend of mine Marta and I, decided to postpone work and develop our Spanish education a bit further. At week ends we worked in a Wimpy Bar in Oxford Street and attended Spanish classes full time Monday to Friday for a year.
The work in the Wimpy was badly paid and we did our best to survive with tips. Customers eating in Wimpy Bars are not very prosperous and their tips were meagre, but 12 hour shift paid off, and we managed to pay our rent and had enough coins to put in the electric meter with the tips collected on Saturdays and Sundays.
We passed our "Graduado Escolar" similar to GCSEs in England and then looked for employment once more. We landed a job in St Pancras´ Hospital in the "CSSD" department. Central Sterile Supply Department. We worked from 7 to 3 and we had a good relationship with many English colleagues and a sympathetic Manager J.S St George.
I sold my car as I could not park it anywhere and bought myself a bicycle. During this period I continued going to English classes and my commitment to survive and improve my knowledge never left me. Other people at the Clinic or at the Hospital had different agendas and accepted cleaning jobs to enhance their pay. I had no family commitments and no need to do this. At the Clinic we had weekly pay and meals included during our working hours. This allowed us a good living and I managed to make some savings for a rainy day. I visited my parents every year in Spain and kept in close contact with my family who was faring well.
This was a good time I was by now 29 years old. My marriage intentions had always been non existent, and the idea did not rob me anytime.
Celines and I decided to look for a house and get a mortgage. (Now, in 2010, that we are suffering the global crisis I realise how wise it was not to give anyone asking for a mortgage more than three times their salary) By doing this the allowance left was just enough to survive if one was careful. Through my landlord, Mr Sarkas who was a developer, builder etc. a house was found in the vicinity of Camden Road. A freehold detached house with three floors .The purchase prise was 6000 English pounds. An elderly lady was a sitting tenant in one of the flats and the banks wanted the whole amount for this purchase. We could have put together 3800 but the rest we could not find anywhere. (This house today in 2010 is worth more than a million pounds, and the sitting tenant died two years later. Such is life!)
Assessing my life I could draw a good balance. I had been in the country 12 years and had had several jobs that gave me confidence and the ability needed to continue in my line of work, catering or domestic service. I had been on a dream holiday to Italy, I had most years a month holiday with my family, I had learnt to drive, I had bought a car, I had savings and I had found a place to leave separate from my employment. Life was much better than 12 years earlier when I left Spain with very few skills, no money or prospects.
From the London Clinic a friend of mine Marta and I, decided to postpone work and develop our Spanish education a bit further. At week ends we worked in a Wimpy Bar in Oxford Street and attended Spanish classes full time Monday to Friday for a year.
The work in the Wimpy was badly paid and we did our best to survive with tips. Customers eating in Wimpy Bars are not very prosperous and their tips were meagre, but 12 hour shift paid off, and we managed to pay our rent and had enough coins to put in the electric meter with the tips collected on Saturdays and Sundays.
We passed our "Graduado Escolar" similar to GCSEs in England and then looked for employment once more. We landed a job in St Pancras´ Hospital in the "CSSD" department. Central Sterile Supply Department. We worked from 7 to 3 and we had a good relationship with many English colleagues and a sympathetic Manager J.S St George.
St Thomas Hospital 1972-1976
St Thomas hospital
I was employed in my previous position in the kitchen and Celines as catering assistant in the dining room area. As I had been there in 1965 I was approached by management to train as a supervisor and I was transferred to a small hospital "Lambeth Hospital". I think my ongoing friendship with Mr Thoume had something to do with the offer apart from my personal potential. He was the Catering Manager and wanted me near by!
I was given exclusive rooms that were reserved for the position of Dining room Superintendent. I had a nice office and with a staff of 8 we provided a 22 hour service for the hospital staff , nurses, doctors, sisters and all hospital employees.I worked in Lambeth Hospital for 2 years and in 1974 C. Thoume was offered a position in Saudi Arabia with better prospects and he left. Immediately a chef from the kitchen was appointed Catering Manager in Lambeth Hospital. This new situation was totally unsatisfactory, for me, as I knew him personally and disliked him terribly. He believed that he was irresistible to women, and I found him revolting, he was for ever touching his testicles as he spoke, and brushing off his languid hair from his forehead...
I told my manager Mr Bibbins that I could not work with him and that I was leaving.
I found a job as a Supervisor in St Mary’s Hospital Paddington. St Thomas hospital was well known for good management and providing an advance catering service, and although most hospitals were run by the NHS not all had a manager like Mr Read who believed in excellence.
I found the catering department in St Mary’s very badly run, and very little interest in making improvements. The servery was in the middle of a draughty corridor and meals were plunged on plates as customers passed by. Splashes on uniforms and trays were part of the service and portion control was non existent. I decided that my training would suffer if I continued there, and I told the Catering manager as much. He immediately reported to Mr Bibbins and told him that I was not happy. Mr Bibbins demanded my return to see him in his office. He offered me a position of inferior rank, as my post in Lambeth had been taken by my friend Begoña Aberisture, and I declined to accept it.
Waterloo Station is very closed to St Thomas hospital and I was going out with a Catering Manager who run several restaurants and coffee shops in the station. He wanted to change bad practice in the restaurants he was running and saw in me a possible solution to his problems. The accommodation rooms were in Stamford Street. (Years later I would return to this very street as my final residence in London)
We had nice rooms and a chef was permanently employed to cook for us. Food was free and plenty and provided at any time we wanted it. The chef was a Spanish woman and really cared for all of us.
Celines, was placed in the kitchen and he appointed me as Restaurant Manager in this very nice restaurant in the centre of Waterloo station. It was very busy and the female waiters were all my senior and set in their ways. When a customer entered the restaurant the first one that was available would run to the door to catch the customer by the arm and without much discretion sat him/her at her table, for they had assigned tables. Naturally this and many other bad practice were not acceptable to me and I left as I could see that I was not going to change them without some radical shake-up.
Celines came running to me on the second day saying the conditions in the kitchen were appalling and she could not take it, she complained looking at her shoes fully splashed. She returned to St Mary’s and worked there for some years as a cook.
I told my manager Mr Bibbins that I could not work with him and that I was leaving.
I found a job as a Supervisor in St Mary’s Hospital Paddington. St Thomas hospital was well known for good management and providing an advance catering service, and although most hospitals were run by the NHS not all had a manager like Mr Read who believed in excellence.
I found the catering department in St Mary’s very badly run, and very little interest in making improvements. The servery was in the middle of a draughty corridor and meals were plunged on plates as customers passed by. Splashes on uniforms and trays were part of the service and portion control was non existent. I decided that my training would suffer if I continued there, and I told the Catering manager as much. He immediately reported to Mr Bibbins and told him that I was not happy. Mr Bibbins demanded my return to see him in his office. He offered me a position of inferior rank, as my post in Lambeth had been taken by my friend Begoña Aberisture, and I declined to accept it.
Waterloo Station is very closed to St Thomas hospital and I was going out with a Catering Manager who run several restaurants and coffee shops in the station. He wanted to change bad practice in the restaurants he was running and saw in me a possible solution to his problems. The accommodation rooms were in Stamford Street. (Years later I would return to this very street as my final residence in London)
We had nice rooms and a chef was permanently employed to cook for us. Food was free and plenty and provided at any time we wanted it. The chef was a Spanish woman and really cared for all of us.
Celines, was placed in the kitchen and he appointed me as Restaurant Manager in this very nice restaurant in the centre of Waterloo station. It was very busy and the female waiters were all my senior and set in their ways. When a customer entered the restaurant the first one that was available would run to the door to catch the customer by the arm and without much discretion sat him/her at her table, for they had assigned tables. Naturally this and many other bad practice were not acceptable to me and I left as I could see that I was not going to change them without some radical shake-up.
Celines came running to me on the second day saying the conditions in the kitchen were appalling and she could not take it, she complained looking at her shoes fully splashed. She returned to St Mary’s and worked there for some years as a cook.
Fortunately in 1976 jobs were available and I could find several posts in one day. From the newspaper I found a position as a Domestic Supervisor in the London Clinic, and I was accepted. The staff quarters were in Noel Street, near to Oxford Circus. All very suitable and I moved into my new life.
The work in the clinic was acceptable and I was well treated. I learned a lot in the new environment and I got to know how the rich looked after themselves. Being a private clinic we had many actors and actresses. Audrey Hepburn came for a face lift in 1976 and she used her husband name Mrs Roberts. Naturally, we all knew who she was. We also had many Princesses from Saudi Arabia who rented all the rooms in a ward to keep their servants at their beck and call.
They burnt incense, sat on the floor as if they were in a tent in the dessert and covered there faces every time a male entered the room. These people never read a newspaper or magazine, they simply sat ready to serve the Princess that signalled to one of them to give a tip to whoever she fancied.
At one point 20 pound notes were handed every time we entered the room, and I can assure you that the Matron and Assistant Matron were in a race in and out of the room.
We had patients that had sex change, breast implants, and hymen reconstruction, as well as more worthwhile operations of plastic surgery to severely injured patients, either through illness or accident. One Arabian Sheikh had had cancer in the face and had surgery to replace his nose, eye and half of his face. The day he was discharged I had the privilege of seeing him putting his turban for the first time in years and the surprise expression on his face was a real treat, he realised for the first time in years that he could face the world again after his long illness and disfigurement.
Madrid 1972
My mother and father with my nephew Isi
My sister Tina and her husband
(9 of us lived in the flat)My sister Gely, Celines, my mother,Isidro and Lolo my brother
Calle Ibiza 1970-72
My eldest sister was a professional dressmaker and designer. In Madrid she found a job as a dressmaker and became very successful. I was working in the boutique at the hotel and my friend Celines in a dress shop. We decided to joint forces with my sister as we were dressmakers too, and open a workshop in our luxurious flat.
We built up a very good clientele in Madrid serving the wives of important politicians, doctors and professionals. The location of our residence was an excellent opportunity for business as our clients mostly lived in the area. We developed and earned our living by working hard and long hours. Dressmaking is a very stressful and demanding job. The clients are fussy and make life very hard with trivialities. Most of these women were rich and had nothing else to do but show-off their latest model and lacked sensibility. They also came from a Fascist regime that taught them to impose authority and demand above the odds. Even the least beautiful client had very high expectation from a lapel, a "V" shape cut, a shoulder pad or the line of the trousers that had to fall from the waist to perfection.While all these demands were made on us, fashion was devising a huge surprise.
The "Pret a Porter" phenomenon arrived in earnest. The choice was spectacular, the possibilities unlimited and the freedom to see oneself in a different light was immediately at hand.
Our clientele started to decline and I could see that very soon there would not be enough work to keep us all in employment. My sister had a husband and a son and needed to stay more than me.
I decided to write to London and go back to the country that had treated me so well.
I received two working permits from my old employer at the hospital and on 16th June 1972 Celines and I took the train back to London.
My sister remained in the flat and continued for a while with reduced dressmaking business, before she rented rooms to make ends meet. My mother and father bought a flat in Colmenar Viejo, 30 kilometers away from Madrid and settled over there with my brother. My sister Tina got married and left for New York with her husband.
My eldest sister was a professional dressmaker and designer. In Madrid she found a job as a dressmaker and became very successful. I was working in the boutique at the hotel and my friend Celines in a dress shop. We decided to joint forces with my sister as we were dressmakers too, and open a workshop in our luxurious flat.
We built up a very good clientele in Madrid serving the wives of important politicians, doctors and professionals. The location of our residence was an excellent opportunity for business as our clients mostly lived in the area. We developed and earned our living by working hard and long hours. Dressmaking is a very stressful and demanding job. The clients are fussy and make life very hard with trivialities. Most of these women were rich and had nothing else to do but show-off their latest model and lacked sensibility. They also came from a Fascist regime that taught them to impose authority and demand above the odds. Even the least beautiful client had very high expectation from a lapel, a "V" shape cut, a shoulder pad or the line of the trousers that had to fall from the waist to perfection.While all these demands were made on us, fashion was devising a huge surprise.
The "Pret a Porter" phenomenon arrived in earnest. The choice was spectacular, the possibilities unlimited and the freedom to see oneself in a different light was immediately at hand.
Our clientele started to decline and I could see that very soon there would not be enough work to keep us all in employment. My sister had a husband and a son and needed to stay more than me.
I decided to write to London and go back to the country that had treated me so well.
I received two working permits from my old employer at the hospital and on 16th June 1972 Celines and I took the train back to London.
My sister remained in the flat and continued for a while with reduced dressmaking business, before she rented rooms to make ends meet. My mother and father bought a flat in Colmenar Viejo, 30 kilometers away from Madrid and settled over there with my brother. My sister Tina got married and left for New York with her husband.
Madrid 1969
In Madrid I went to Charo's house. Charo had stayed at the convent and had helped me with French lessons. We were good friends and her family treated me very well. Charo unknown to me belong to the Opus Dei. I was naïve, for I should have known. She had given me “Camino” to read which should have alerted me. She lived in Calle Bravo Murillo very near to St Antonio's church. There, she knew a priest who was very kind. He took us by car every where and showed me Madrid in good style. We ate at best restaurants and he was very generous. I was later to find out that he too belong to Opus Dei and was sawing the seeds for me to join their profitable organization. It was not to materialise.
Charo and myself in ParisI took the train and went to Seville to see my sister Lourdes and family. My intention was to find a job there but I was not lucky. At the end of August 1968 I took the train back to Madrid in order to find a job. I was 19 years old. My savings were 12,000 pesetas, a small fortune in my bank, but looking for cheap accommodation was my first priority in order to make my saving last as long as possible.
I bought a newspaper and started looking for a room in the centre of Madrid. I remember buying a map and asking the people offering rooms for the nearest tube station. I telephoned several numbers before I found one that was central and appeared to be suitable for my needs. I took a taxi from the station and arrived in Calle Barbieri. This is a street in the red district of Madrid. I was taken to a suitable room and after placing my few belongings in their rightful place I descended to the kitchen to see the atmosphere and to find out where I could have something to eat.
In there I found people of different ages and appeared to have very different professions too.One of them was a retired cabaret singer, looking at her one could tell her singing carrier was over and something else was her current employment. Another young person was facing the cooker where she was preparing her lunch. Her name was Loren. Lillian was an English teacher, Maria Jose was teaching young people in a school and Mary Carmen was working as a telephonist. That was not bad I thought, they all had decent enough jobs I had done well choosing the cheap pension.
During the following days I kept looking at adverts and telephoning companies for work. I was fortunate enough to see an advert as a sales assistant in Torrejon de Ardoz near the American Base. I made an appointment and I arrived at this alabaster factory near Plaza de Castilla. There were several people applying for the position and I wondered what my chances were. The owner Pilar a nice kind woman explained that the job was some distance away and we would be taken by car. Six of us were taken for a trial at the shop. When we got there we were mostly disappointed because it was a portakabin souvenir shop in the middle of no where. However, American pilots did purchase goods there.
Pili my friend, and head shop assistant
Apart from the normal souvenirs goods, alabaster lamps,statues and ashtrays were sold in large quantities. Pilar's brothers were good carvers of alabaster. I was told what the position entailed and I was given guidelines. An American officer entered the shop asking for an alabaster lamp, these are placed on alabaster pedestal and are lit inside. I had never seen one of these before, but I approached the ones displayed and he pointed to one of them. I took it to the counter and in English told him the price and whether he would like it packed. He nodded and took his purse out to pay me. I wrote the receipt and put the money in the till. Then this item had to be dismantled and wrapped, the pieces are heavy, after all alabaster is soft marble. -No problem, I looked at it and started taking a part. Seven pieces were ready for me to wrap in carton and tied with string. I must have done a good job, for the head sales assistant took me outside while others where interviewed and she said to me quietly, “don't worry the job is yours”. In effect it was, and the following day I was to go to Ventas station and Pili would collect me by car to my new job.
I was to be paid 8,000 pesetas. This was a very good salary at the time. Loren was a waitress and she had minimum wages plus tips, Vivian was earning 5,000 pesetas as a teacher, Mary Carmen was earning just above the minimum wage of 3,000 as a telephonist and Maria Jose, would not disclose her salary.
I would leave the house at 7.30 and go to a coffee shop to have a coffee and toast. I was "ok" now, I had a job. I then took the underground and travelled for 16 tube stations to meet with Pili in Ventas station. At 8,30 on the dot she was there waiting for me in her white Seat 600. We travelled to the outskirt of Torrejon de Ardoz before we got to a solitary camp in the vicinity of the American base. In the shop there was one young man called Ezequiel, who was to help with heavy goods, cleaning etc.
The shop Artesanos Unidos -The owner and myself ,and Ezequiel
The shop was not very busy, but the margin in sales exceeded 300 per cent. This taught me something about sales and cost of product.
In our rooms, life continued and the people that did not profit from the red district like myself, Loren,Vivian, Mary Carmen y Maria Jose, got talking about finding a better location. Our reputation was at stake, as well as realising that going home at night was not enjoyed by any of us.
I found a flat for rent in a much better location, Quevedo. We rented a large flat with 5 bedrooms, kitchen and sitting room. It was the 5th floor and we had good views and plenty of space, no more encounters with dirty men in our street.
This flat was unfurnished. Such were the times. We had nothing, no bed or table or chairs.On Saturday those of us that were not working decided to go to the Rastro to buy beds. We had a brilliant morning bargaining and buying our first pieces of furniture, well, metal, for the beds were made from cheap aluminium. We also bought some sponge matresses that were served unwrapped and tied with a string. The next problem was how to take them home, we thought nothing better but to take the underground. Four young women,four metal beds and four sponge mattresses.
Fortunately,the tube station exit to our destination was very near to our flat and we arrived laughing and vey happy.
I found a flat for rent in a much better location, Quevedo. We rented a large flat with 5 bedrooms, kitchen and sitting room. It was the 5th floor and we had good views and plenty of space, no more encounters with dirty men in our street.
This flat was unfurnished. Such were the times. We had nothing, no bed or table or chairs.On Saturday those of us that were not working decided to go to the Rastro to buy beds. We had a brilliant morning bargaining and buying our first pieces of furniture, well, metal, for the beds were made from cheap aluminium. We also bought some sponge matresses that were served unwrapped and tied with a string. The next problem was how to take them home, we thought nothing better but to take the underground. Four young women,four metal beds and four sponge mattresses.
Fortunately,the tube station exit to our destination was very near to our flat and we arrived laughing and vey happy.
Some of the girls were tidy and respectful to others, many had no common sense and would leave the toilet or bathroom full of hairs or worse. This caused some problems and I introduced a roster for cleaning. -Did it work? no. Just the same we had a good few months there in harmony and enjoyed our new way of life.
I decided that I needed to gain some certificates if I wanted to improve my chances in the labour market, and I started going to evening classes to study the "O" levels that I had left unfinished as a teenager. I went to evening classes for 2 years and managed to improve my writing and arithmetic skills.
A few months later Vivian brought news of a flat to rent in Hernani, in Cuatro Caminos, with 5 bedrooms and much cheaper than our present one. Naturally, Quevedo is an expensive location. We moved there with our meagre possessions and improved our life style by having more money to ourselves.
A few months later Vivian brought news of a flat to rent in Hernani, in Cuatro Caminos, with 5 bedrooms and much cheaper than our present one. Naturally, Quevedo is an expensive location. We moved there with our meagre possessions and improved our life style by having more money to ourselves.
My sister Tina was at the time in Geneva and with a package of accademic knowledge of 3 languages; English, French and German, she decided to come to Madrid and try her luck finding a job. Tina had been a very good student, and had had pre-university studies and teacher training . She placed an advert with all her skills and had lots of offers of employment. However, this being the Spain of the early seventies the interview locations were questionable and she had to sieve through the offers before she managed to get something respectable. Finally,she managed to get a job as a secretary for a Doctor at the Consejo General.She became number 6 in the flat.
A few months later another friend of mine Celines, who had being a student dressmaker with my eldest sisters decided to come from Barcelona to find a job in Madrid. Celines became number 7 in the flat.
Then my brother who was by now 16 was sent to Los Salesianos college in Madrid to learn a trade.Due to my brother coming to Madrid I looked for a job nearer in order to be able to give him lunch and a bit of family life. I got this job in a hotel in Puerta de Hierro and I used to get a two and a half hour lunch break, as most Spanish do.
I travellled by tube at 2,15 and rushed to Cuatro Caminos to have lunch with my younger brother, rested for 15 minutes and took the train back to my job at 5,30 until 9,00 pm.
My father must have guessed what was happening and decided to pay us a visit. He immediately found a small flat back in Quevedo area and installed us there with my mother. We were two sisters, one brother,our mother plus Celines who decided to come with us.
My father must have guessed what was happening and decided to pay us a visit. He immediately found a small flat back in Quevedo area and installed us there with my mother. We were two sisters, one brother,our mother plus Celines who decided to come with us.
My mother suffers from claustrophobia and the flat was an attic which had roof windows only. She was not happy and she develop orientation problems.The flat was in a circle of houses with a fruit market in the middle. You would think that my mother would be able to find the entrance of our block of flats, just by following the circle, well she could not, she was totally disorientated and would wait in the flat for one of us to appear. This may give the impresion that my mother was a fool, nothing further from the truth. She had a proven record .
This situation was not suitable either and my father decided to return to Madrid in order to set us up as a family. He did just that. He found a beautiful flat in one of the best districts of Madrid, Barrio Salamanca. In Calle Sainz de Baranda.The flat was spacious and luxurious by our standards. We were nine people in it but we all had our space.My parents were retired and had a small pension. My eldest sister was a dressmaker and looked for a job in her profession.Isidro, her husband found a job as a Pest control worker.Tina was working as a secretary and teaching english privately.Celines continued to work as a sales assistant. Myself worked in the Hotel Puerta de Hierro as a sales assistant in a boutique. Life was busy and we all contributed to the expensive rent with our wages.
This situation was not suitable either and my father decided to return to Madrid in order to set us up as a family. He did just that. He found a beautiful flat in one of the best districts of Madrid, Barrio Salamanca. In Calle Sainz de Baranda.The flat was spacious and luxurious by our standards. We were nine people in it but we all had our space.My parents were retired and had a small pension. My eldest sister was a dressmaker and looked for a job in her profession.Isidro, her husband found a job as a Pest control worker.Tina was working as a secretary and teaching english privately.Celines continued to work as a sales assistant. Myself worked in the Hotel Puerta de Hierro as a sales assistant in a boutique. Life was busy and we all contributed to the expensive rent with our wages.
My mother and father,my eldest sister her husband and 8 year old son, my sister Tina my youngest brother, and our friend and me. (9 people)
My brother went to school to learn a trade. There was a lot of activity in the house and everyone did their best to survive. Some comments made today by people of my generation complaining about the world situation, working conditions or the size of benefits provided by the goverment, make me ungry for they forget that we had nothing like that, that no help was at hand if you had no job. There was nothing to fall back on to then.
Young people of today must realise the effort made by us and our ancestors fighting for better working conditions,working hours,better rate of pay,minimum wage,holiday, working rights, uniforms,health and safety and many more benefits found in the work place today as given rights, when in fact they were all fought for.
It remains to be seen what legacy this new generations will leave to their descendants!
Paris 1968
May '68 was a political failure for the protesters, but it had an enormous social impact. In France, it is considered to be the watershed moment that saw the replacement of conservative morality (religion, patriotism, respect for authority) with the liberal morality (equality, sexual liberation, human rights) that dominates French society today. Although this replacement did not take place solely in this one month, the term "mai 68" is used to refer to the shift in values, especially when referring to its most idealistic aspects.
The revolution was an intimidating situation, specially for those like me that were residing in a religious institution. The nuns were very frighten and took charge of the iron doors as their most precious possession. The right wing newspaper "France Soir"was situated directly opposite the convent, and most days we had the students and workers sporting red kerchiefs and beret demonstrating outside the newspaper building throwing stones and shouting slogans against the right wing printing press. May 68, also brought to light the issue of celibacy dispensations for priests and nuns.
1962-Pope John XXIII: Vatican Council II; vernacular; marriage is equal to virginity.
1966-Pope Paul VI: celibacy dispensations
1978-Pope John Paul II: puts a freeze on dispensations.
History of Celibacy in the Catholic Church First CenturyPeter, the first pope, and the apostles that Jesus chose were, for the most part, married men. The New Testament implies that women presided at Eucharistic meals in the early church.
Second and Third CenturyAge of Gnosticism: light and spirit are good, darkness and material things are evil. A person cannot be married and be perfect. However, most priests were married.
Fourth Century 306-Council of Elvira, Spain, decree #43: a priest who sleeps with his wife the night before Mass will lose his job.
325-Council of Nicea: decreed that after ordination a priest could not marry. Proclaimed the Nicene Creed.
352-Council of Laodicea: women are not to be ordained. This suggests that before this time there was ordination of women.
385-Pope Siricius left his wife in order to become pope. Decreed that priests may no longer sleep with their wives.
Fifth Century401-St. Augustine wrote, “Nothing is so powerful in drawing the spirit of a man downwards as the caresses of a woman.”
Sixth Century 567-2nd Council of Tours: any cleric found in bed with his wife would be excommunicated for a year and reduced to the lay state.
580-Pope Pelagius II: his policy was not to bother married priests as long as they did not hand over church property to wives or children.
590-604-Pope Gregory “the Great” said that all sexual desire is sinful in itself (meaning that sexual desire is intrinsically evil?). St. Ulrich, a holy bishop, argued from scripture and common sense that the only way to purify the church from the worst excesses of celibacy was to permit priests to marry.
Eleventh Century 1045-Pope Boniface IX dispensed himself from celibacy and resigned in order to marry.
1074-Pope Gregory VII said anyone to be ordained must first pledge celibacy: ‘priests [must] first escape from the clutches of their wives.’
1095-Pope Urban II had priests’ wives sold into slavery, children were abandoned.
Twelfth Century1123-Pope Calistus II: First Lateran Council decreed that clerical marriages were invalid.
1139-Pope Innocent II: Second Lateran Council confirmed the previous council’s decree.
Fourteenth Century Bishop Pelagio complains that women are still ordained and hearing confessions.
Fifteenth CenturyTransition; 50% of priests are married and accepted by the people.
Sixteenth Century1545-63-Council of Trent states that celibacy and virginity are superior to marriage. 1517-Martin Luther.1530-Henry VI
Seventeenth CenturyInquisition. Galileo. Newton.
Eighteenth Century1776-American Declaration of Independence.1789-French Revolution.
Nineteenth Century1804-Napoleon.1882-Darwin.1847-Marx, Communist Manifesto.1858-Freud.
1869-First Vatican Council; infallibility of pope.
Twentieth Century1930-Pope Pius XI: sex can be good and holy.
1951-Pope Pius XII: married Lutheran pastor ordained catholic priest in Germany.
1962-Pope John XXIII: Vatican Council II; vernacular; marriage is equal to virginity.
1966-Pope Paul VI: celibacy dispensations.
1970s-Ludmilla Javorova and several other Czech women ordained to serve needs of women imprisoned by Communists.
1978-Pope John Paul II: puts a freeze on dispensations
1983-New Canon Law
1980-Married Anglican/Episcopal pastors are ordained as catholic priests in the U.S.; also in Canada and England in 1994.
The Catholic church and their princes the popes have over the centuries done and undone laws that have been in most cases unreasonable and unnatural. The nuns and priests in the convent were young and full of life and expectations. They were also surrounded by youth. Being a nun or a priest does not mean you cannot appreciate beauty or desire love and being loved. It is all part of being alive. The prayer routines, the cold environment, the shock of cold water showers and the cilice that some priest wore, would only work for a while, then real life was facing you again with all the temptations and desires.
Cilice
(this is a belt made of metal with spikes that one wears with the purpose of feeling uncomfortable and mortified and hopefully divert sexual desires)
This celibacy dispensations was a God sent message to the priests and nuns at the convent in 1968. Most of the young priests left the priesthood and got engaged to friends of mine residents in the convent. One Colette had actually had a beautiful baby with one of the priests.
The nuns apart from the old ones and the mother superior who I expect feared the outside world stayed put. The rest abandoned the convent and rented flats to enjoy their new found freedom. I met Sor Isabel one day in the street, dressed in civilian cloths, totally transformed into her new life style. She was probably as holy as when she left the convent, but it was by choice.
The convent, myself,Toñi and Sor Isabel mas dos residentes
The priests, apart from Manuel, took to civilian life with joy. Manuel, was a young priest, very good looking, who was either convinced of his principles or he belong to The Opus Dei, I am convinced it was the latter. He did wear the cilice, for one day while at the theatre his thigh was actually bleeding and it spotted his trousers, when I asked him what had happened he confessed the use of the torturous cilice.
The Opus Dei is a powerful organization and I expect he had committed completely making it more difficult for him to default. I hope he had the opportunity of deliverance in later years and managed to escape from the unrealistic ties of the church.
I continued going out with Sacha and going to the Aliance to improve my French apart from working at the reception in the convent. The nuns had a dispensary and treated the poor people of Paris with minor ailments.
One day the police came to see me at my room where I was living with Antonia. Naturally a visit from the police was very shocking and I was very upset. A note was presented to me with an appointment date at the police station in Porte de Choicy. The policeman carrying the message explained nothing.
The next day I took the train by myself to Porte de Choicy station. It was raining very hard and I had taken no umbrella. After a long walk in the rain and several directions I arrived to the Choicy police station. As soon as I entered I was taken through a long corridor. In passing I looked to the left and holding the rails of his cell I saw Sacha. He looked terrible, he had been beaten up. He looked at me in total desolation and I made signs to him questioning why,why?. He simply asked for cigarettes.
I followed this tall policemen through the long corridor until we reached an office. Another sombre looking police looked at me in amazement for I was wet, and I must have looked like a child. I did not wait for questions I demanded the reason for my being there. He was quite for a moment and then exploded with a fist on the table saying, “mademoiselle ici c'est moi que fait le question!”
I was taken aback from his intimating behaviour and sat down in silence. He started asking my name, age? Where have you met Sacha?, What is your connection with him? What do you know about him? I responded and he must have realised that I had no part in his crime and he simply said that I was in his address book and they had to interrogate me, it was routine. All questions and answers were typed with force in his typewriter. On the way out another policeman took me down and we passed by Sacha, the policeman told me quietly that he had stolen from the patients at the hospital. I am not sure he was telling me the truth because for that reason one does no beat a man in the face and make it black and blue.
I arrived at the convent where the nuns and the head priest were in conference waiting for me. The police must have rung them. I was told by the head priest that Sacha was involved in slave trade. I could hardly believe that statement for I had gone out with Sacha for eight months on a daily basis and, if that had been his intention he had had multiple opportunities to kidnap me and placed me in a haren! The head priest demanded that I return to the convent where I would be controlled and saved from him or others like him.
It was now May 68, the Spaniards were taken by especial buses back to Spain. Embassy recommendations for all Spanish citizens living in Paris and France. For me arrangements were made to take a blind nun back to Madrid.During the journey I had many doubts and questions in my mind that I was never going to get an answer to, it was an episode in my life that I had to put behind me as soon as possible.
1968 in Seville with my nephew and niece
The Toad Battle
The Toad Battle
From one to five years old I just remember being taken care by my mother and sisters, surrounded by poverty but unity. I was never cold or hungry in the extreme.
I was placed in a position of safety by those that loved me. -You see, I had the fortunate position of being the youngest of four sisters.
My eldest sister was 15 years older than me, the second eldest 12 years older and the third 3 years older. My mother was like a hen with her chicks, always protective and loving.
We were poor. My father was a miner in 1952, and behaved as miners did at that time. Miners went to the pub after worked, and spent more than they could afford and got drunk.
-It has to be said that what they spent amounted to very little, but that small amount would have improved life quality for many families.
Tradition is a bad thing in general. Behaving manly is often forgetting the needs of the people that you are supposed to care for. How could a man of that time say to his friends "I am going home because my wife needs me"! It would have been like saying "my wife will beat me up if, I don't get home on time". Instead they all went to the pub and got drunk. Beating their wives was common too. I suppose it was the only way they could face the prospect of going down the pit.Going to work in the pit was a very risky business. Firstly they dressed in very poor quality blue jeans trousers and shirt,with a short sleeve vest underneath and a rough coat. For their feet they wore boots of poor quality, some miners wore socks others did not have any.
Many a time, I saw my father wrapping himself in newspapers to protect himself from the cold win that would accompany him for the 20 mile bicycle ride.(I see today ladies wearing very strong leather boots with a thick sole and excellent leather to walk down red carpeted isles, these would have been a God sent to miners that suffered from cold feet) To protect his hands from the cold my father cut the skin of a goat and made two hoods for the bicycle hand rail and then polished them with lard until they were hard and acted like plastic would today, and thus help him from the chilly winter mornings.
More than once he fell asleep while riding the bicycle and crushed by the road side.
He had not had a full English breakfast before departing. A cup of chicory with a bit of milk and a crust of bread would have been all that was available. For his lunch my mother would have made a small one egg tortilla and a few fried chips accompanied by a small piece of bread and his "bota de vino".
With this meagre packed lunch he would set out into the night for an 11 hour shift.
These vicissitudes and many more were suffered by our ancestors, and today we speak about stress!!!
We the rest of the family would occupy ourselves with different tasks. For my part I was an observer of the proceedings. My mother rented rooms to other miners and would prepare small individual pots with their meals. These were left on the agar cooker put aside to keep warm for when ever the miners came back exhausted from their long shift.
You could point out to each pot and not go wrong predicting what was inside. A few white beans with chunks of potatoes cooked in the "fabada similarity "with a chunk of white bacon and a piece of black pudding. This meagre lunch or dinner was devoured by the men with a large piece of bread, when they return after a 10 to 11 hour shift. A larger pot with the same ingredients would feed the family too.
Additionally,health and safety provision had not been discovered yet, and untrained men executed dangerous tasks that threaten their lives daily.
My mother also had the task of washing and mending all their cloths. Washing was a special treat for me as I would accompany my mother to the river with her big bucket carried on her head.
I would hold her hand and when the weather was good she would talk to me about the birds, the trees and the vegetables growing in someone else allotment.
I had a fixation with printed words and although newspaper cutting were found in the bathroom by the toilet, hanging from a nail, for that special moment when toilet paper was a luxury we had not discovered yet. The papers in the street fascinated me. I would pick them up, for there were plenty,the streets were not spotless as they are now, and I would ask my mother to read me what they said.She was a real treat; she would invent something suitable for my ears and I would listen totally entranced by her simple words. I particularly remember the Job story; his acceptance of God's will without protest, his understanding of the futility of material things and his continuous praise of God's designs on our lives. I suppose this was to me the bedside story that I had never had read to me... Firstly, my mother was too tired by bed time, secondly she had not been informed of such a thing as reading to your children before going to sleep. No one had ever read to her. Washing by the side of the river was exciting for me too. My mother would take the white washing or the navy blue trousers and shirts and soak them in the river water before she would start rubbing at the seams full of soil and sweat with her bar of "Lagarto" soap.-It was an exhausting task. The rough trousers material and shirts with pockets and patches in most parts are not easy to wash or rinse.She scrubbed hard several times each piece, before rinsing it. The different colour rinses flowed down the river with the current representing sweat, tears, effort, humiliation and sadness.
Further down, the same river water, would carry some other soul's sorrow, sadness and similar miserable experiences. She would then squeeze each piece as much as possible to reduce the weight and use all her dexterity to place the bucket on her head. I would watch her, and observe her hands going red from the scrubbing and tossing of the human washing machine.I remember thinking I loved my mother.
From time to time I would wonder off, but her caution eyes would never let me out of sight for very long. Soon I would hear her calling me in desperation and demanding my return to her side. Mostly I obeyed promptly, for without her my reading of the environmental surrounding were not very interesting.
Once, as we were there by the river Luna, washing, we heard a sound approaching our positions as when an army moves forward. We turned to discover what the sound making was,to our surprise we visualised this chrome coloured huge toad pacing the way like a soldier."Boy was this exciting a frog standing on two legs was going to attack us, I though". I quickly held on to my mother's skirt and felt her legs stiffened as she stood up ready for defence. She looked around for something to distract this monster coming directly at us. Nothing was available. In a flash, she looked at the bar of soap and used it as a bullet to the target, catching it full on its back.
The toad reacted and I remember him looking at us in defiance before tossing his odds and changing direction to hide among shrubs and into a paddle.
That day of togetherness, with my mum, fighting in "The Toad Battle " was special to me. 
Piglet Pet
I also remember having a "piglet pet". Can you believe it! I loved it. My mother actually put a string around his head in the form of rains and I used to ride on it as you would a pony.
It was short and pink with black spots.
I was four yeas old only but I distinctly remember riding on it over a bridge that was just outside our house, and kissing his back side by lifting his curly tail. At one point the bailiffs came and we abandoned our house in a small van. The piglet loss and the spade left behind the door with which I used to help my mother in the vegetable garden were my childhood possessions and I cried desperately for them.
My eldest sisters were in the process of dress making. They were very young but you had to earn your living somehow. The eldest stitched all day fabrics of different colours. Skirts and blouses were mostly her line of business. Coats and trousers were not part of her repertoire as yet.
My second eldest sister was very good mending stocking. This is a lost skill in the developed world, fortunately. A loose thread in those crystal stockings was persistent on moving either up or down the ladder at a speed. Her task was to place the stocking over a drinking glass, and catch the loose thread with a special needle, and at a painful speed, step by step, bring it back to its original position. Then delicately hide the stitch to pretend it was never there. For this she earned some ridiculous some of money, but she was entrepreneurial and one thing would lead to another. My third sister was only 3 years older than me, but she was very studious and she was already going to school and showing teachers and policemen that she could converse with reason and not be intimidated by uniform or status.
We lived in this house with many rooms and a very steep staircase. I remember climbing them once on my knees asking for forgiveness for having killed Ambrosio. Ambrosio, was my friend, a boy of six that lived in the same block. We decided to go by the river which was opposite our house to pick some walnuts we had spotted on a tree. He was very short, as was I. We practised stone throwing to show our target skills. Naturally we tired ourselves to no effect. The walnut defiant kept mocking us from her high an mighty position. -What to do! "Return without our price!"No way", best change strategic and demolish the high and mighty nut at any cost.
Ambrosio, decided to go on top of a wall and shoot the walnut from there. He moved and placed himself on top of this wall near the tree, while I continued displaying my throwing ability.
Unfortuantely,one of the pebbles hit Ambrosio right on his head and he fell over the wall. I run desperately to see the abyss he had fallen to ; when I discovered him flat on his back not moving. -That was it, "I have killed him". I run home crying all the time " I killed Ambrosio" " I killed Ambrosio".
At the bottom of the stairs I looked up and saw them steeper than I had ever seen them before. The weight that I was carrying on my small shoulders was overwhelming. I decided to climb the stairs on my knees supplicating forgiveness and crying out loud :
-"I have killed Ambrosio, I have killed Ambrosio!".
I had killed Ambrosio and my mother would kill me.
Tricycle
Tricycle
In our block of flats yard there were always many children playing. Homes were not comfortable as they are now, with TV and central heating carpet on the floor and a settee. We children were mostly outdoors learning social skills and anything else that would be available. One girl had a beautiful tricycle. I was totally amazed by its beauty. This must have shown in my face for the girl that own it allowed me to ride on it for awhile. Naturally, I loved it, I had never seen anything like it. My father´s bicycle was the nearest to it, but I could not climb on that, this one was my size.
A few days later a photographer appeared with his camera trying to capture us in our childhood. He did not ask whether we wanted to be photographed, he just clicked his camera here and there. With the corner of my eye I saw the tricycle lying idle for an moment while its owner was fascinated by the camera and the flash. I instantly thought a golden opportunity had come my way to ("stardom") show off on the tricycle, and without further a do, I jumped on it and smiled. The end result you can see here (above).
My mother was not too pleased when the photographer asked her for the pictures payment, but the damaged was done, she could not resist the picture presented to her with my smile breaking through the paper.
Although I was now 5 years old and my eldest sister 20, my mother felt pregnant once more at the age of 43. These were difficult times and the stigma of an older woman, all be it legitimately, being pregnant, was frowned upon. My eldest sister could not look at our mother in the face. She actually though it was shameful and she herself would have difficulty facing her own friends with such a development.My mother was distraught , she did not want another pregnancy.
Six months earlier, she had been through an episode of backstreet abortion and had almost died in the process. Her aim was to safe money to pay off the debts and recover her house. She had worked very hard and had made many sacrifices to build it. The pregnancy would make this task much more difficult. (she never recovered her house, and my uncle never recovered his investment as the house remained empty until it was sold in the year 2000) 
My parents house in Collanzo 1943
Just the same she continued cooking, washing and mending for all those men in order to enhanced my dad's pay and make ends meet. Her demeanour had changed though, I could sense it even at my age. Four children and a small wage, plus the extra money needed to cover my father's expenses at the pub left very little to put aside if any. My sisters made me a beautiful navy blue jacket for my school debut. I was over the moon. I can't remember much about school but I remember wearing my jacket with pride and hanging it on a nail at the entrance hall, ready for the next day.
My sisters being young they noticed how much care I took with my jacket and thought of nothing better than to tease me by stitching a red patch on its back. The first thing I saw next morning when I got up was the flashing cloth that appeared stuck to my precious jacket. I said nothing and went straight to investigate. Perhaps the ugly cloth was just hanging over it. I tried to pull it off, but it was well placed and perfectly secured, "ruined I though". I started crying in desolation for the sacrilege committed to my precious possession. My sisters were standing next to me observing my reaction and enjoying every minute.
My sisters tried to console me by saying that the nail had tore it and they had repaired it as best they could. -"Well that was no consolation, was it?" It only confirmed my fears of total devastation.
They had their laugh and I had a good cry before I received lots of kisses and cuddles. My delight once the patch was removed and the cloth returned to total perfection was part of their reward too.
I also had a very good friend her name was Paqui. We went everywhere together and shared what ever secrets we had. We even kept a big secret that happened to us during a visit to one of our neighbours. There were several brothers in this house, some older than others. One of them Carlos was going out with my eldest sister, much to the dislike of my father, for the family was touched by tuberculosis.
Their apartment was the same as ours with a long glass corridor. Luis must have been over 20 for he was quite tall and wore long trousers. We were in this gallery for some reason when he called us to show us something. Innocently, we obeyed and went to him. He was sitting on a very low stool and appeared quite normal, until we approached him and he showed us his penis fully erected as he must have been masturbating.
Well, we just run holding each other's hand wondering what we had seen and whether it had been our fault.At that age we had never encounter an episode of that nature, and not knowing exactly why, we never disclosed this secret to any one. Paedophiles existed then and will always be there.
Not long after that my father's job came to an end and it was time to move yet again. My sadness saying good bye to Paqui and Ambrosio has not quite left me. You see I keep living things behind. My pet pig, my spade and now my friends Paqui and Ambrosio
The cow enterprice
The Cow Enterprise
The year 1953, we arrived at this hamlet called Socuello on the outskirts of Bembibre. In this new place all was unknown and strange, there was no river near by and there were no friends to play with. My brother cried in his cot and my sisters found good use for their entrepreneurial skills in the new village.
They stitched and sawed what ever came their way. Mostly it was turning collars to shirts or making new collars from the skirt of the shirt. This too is a lost skill, no young woman today would think of such an economic idea, making a collar from the extra cloth of the skirt of the shirt!!! Stockings were always placed over the glass waiting to be gathered.I attended school in a wave of insomnia as I cannot tell you anything about it. I have no recollection of this time at all. My only knowledge of this period is a scar that I have in my foot from stepping on to a broken bottle. I also remember being punished for something that I cannot recall, but the punishment I have not forgotten. I was told to kneel on two chick peas one under each knee and with my arms stretched hold three heavy books on each hand! It always amazes me to realise man's ability in discovering new ways of torturing their fellow human beings! What could a six year old have done to receive such a harsh punishment?
Not long after having settle down my father decides we needed to move into a larger house.
The house in Bembibre in the vicinity of Socuello, was on the main road, that was the motorway of the time.Huge lorries rallied day and night with the fresh fish that had been caught earlier that same day in the North of Spain, Galicia.Madrid being the capital city of Spain was four hundred kilometres away. Its purchase power was grater than all the cities these lorries passed by in between,poor,mainly rural, agricultural and undeveloped. Once we had some visitors from my father's family. They were accustomed to sleep soundly in the desolate mountains of the North. Their only disturbance was the cock singing the waking call in the early hours of the morning. They could not believe we could actually sleep in that place where the lorries never stopped passing night and day.
The house was divided into two flats.One upstairs and a bar with a small apartment for the people running the bar downstairs. The flat that we occupied had three large rooms.Number one room held four beds for the miners.Number two had two beds for my three sisters and myself. Two to a bed. Number three room was my parents bedroom and my brother slept in a cot by their side. We also had a larger room which was our dining room,kitchen and a complete bathroom. Soon the dining room became a factory of all sorts. My sisters started teaching pattern drawing and fashion design. Tina and I went to school and my brother did his own thing.
My father was behaving badly in front of our very nose. Our flat was over the bar and we could hear him saying another round for everyone. This created an atmosphere at home that we could all sense, for the needs of the family were great. My mother decided to buy one cow. We had no land or where to put it, but she would find a way.
My father was a man of many talents, when he was not at the pub. He could build a house, carved wood or be a farmer, apart from understanding rudimentary machines at the mines.Keeping the men alive in the pit was a relevant effort. The mechanical pumps circulated the air inside the deep galleries and work environment was greatly improved as well as productivity by these machines. (below my mother in 2008 she is 98 years old)
My parents decided that they would built a hut to keep this cow in a piece of land they had rented. The hay is stack for the winter, in a way that looks like an American Indian tent.
My father and mother built one of this in appearance and made it hallow in the interior. It was finished just on time on the day of the arrival of this new addition to the family. It is a survival instinct that makes man inventive. It worked very well and had no effect on the landscape for any one to complain about.My father would go off to work and my mother continued with her innumerable tasks apart from holding the rains of this cow, while it ate for eight hours at a time.
She had discovered that by the road side, the grass grew free and plenty. Cows spend most of the day grazing, and one cannot imagine how monotonous it must have been holding the lead of this cow for hours on end. She had to hold the rains to avoid accidents with passing vehicles and people.But she only thought of our survival.
Her needs always came last. Late in the evening she would take this cow back to the improvised farm and milk it. Buckets of milk would come out of this animal factory and she would come home delighted with a bucket on her head and two milk churns, one of each hand. She would do her innumerable tasks and then at around seven in the evening she would go out to sell the milk.
She built a good clientele, for people knew she was a decent and clean woman trying to look after her family. Other people were doing similar things in a big scale. But the milk was not as whole as the one my mother was selling. Adding water was known to be part of the profit making mechanism. My mother sold it a bit dearer but unadulterated.
I remember her coming home and emptying her apron pocket full of coins. What a delight it was for her and for the rest of the family.A cow will provide you with milk everyday of the year, it is like well fed hens they produce eggs on a daily basis and thus produce product and profit for the owner. I remember in those days hens were only given left overs and did not manufacture an egg a day, poor things... (when I am asked today which is my favorite pet, the answer is always a cow) This milk also gave us a good start in life by having as much milk as we wanted to accompany our simple meals. With all this entrepreneurial ideas going on in my house, the neighbours were amazed. My mother created her own hostel, for she continued having four miners, sleeping and eating in our house. She had four daughters and a 5 year old boy, a husband to upset her, and a cow.
My sisters were by now famous as the “Asturianas Dressmakers” . They operated an academy of fashion and taught up to forty female students from villages around the area.
My mother realised that if she had women instead of men, she could be freer to do her tasks without being concerned about my sisters reputation with the miners. After all they were both in their twenties. So she changed her hotel occupation from miners to future dressmakers that came from some distance to learn the trade with my sisters.
The house was full of excitement. Women in and out, clients choosing the next patterned cloth for their chosen piece of design, buckets of milk in and out, four small pots simmering on the cooker accompanying the larger one, paper, scissors, rulers,chalk, pins and needles as well as laughter and sadness was echoed in between those walls, while the country was suffering hunger, isolation, unemployment and misery.
My sister Tina and I attended school, my brother was by now fighting with the cock that took a special liking to him and playing with his neighbour friend. They were both very dark, they had dark complexion and sometimes they looked even blacker from swimming in the river that flowed black water from the non environmentally friendly mines.
My sisters and my mother often discussed issues beyond my comprehension, but looking at my mother's face I could gage the seriousness of the latest incident. My father had gambled a piece of land that they had bought to start building another house.My mother had already helped build two houses and lost them. This was the last straw, she thought. She could not believe it, when she searched her “aparador” where this document was usually kept and discovered it was no where to be found.
In those days men could do an undo without their wife's permission or knowledge. The law was on their side, one could even gamble one's wife as if she were your own property. I know some men who did just that.
The suffragettes are my heroines and I am very grateful for their courage and vision for a better world of future generations of women. A few of us do enjoy today the life that they would have wanted for themselves, our freedom and independence. We owe to their determination in freeing us from male patriarchy, where women were disrespected and abused.
My main concern was my mother and her hectic life, matrimony issues, money problems for rent and schools, and family needs. My mother or father, contrary to other parents, never used us children as earners for their benefit. On the contrary, albeit with huge difficulty, my mother sent my eldest sister to learn dressmaking professionally. She paid for this with her effort and extra income from all the enterprises that she involved herself in to bring us out of the gutter. She had known a better life,where she felt secure and could provide for her family, but alas, it did not last, and it was not meant to be the first or second time round.
However,as soon as she could, and with forward sight, she bought a sawing machine and made arrangements for my second eldest sister to follow her steps and have a profession of her own. It served them both well, and helped them both along their lives. Both worked from home raising their families supported by the extra income that their skills gave them. My third sister Tina was very bright at school and had remarkable talent for mathematics and academic work.
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