Two notifications pinged onto my phone as I turned it on this morning; the first was the top story on the BBC News app which read ‘Spain death rate falls for third consecutive day’, and the second was an article from El Pais which laid out the steps the Spanish government must take if we want to return to normality by mid-summer. While both articles could easily be interpreted as quite troubling, they are also reason to be optimistic. It feels like we have reached the turning point, as the health system begins to turn the table against the virus and cope with the constant stream of infected people coming through its doors. It is promising that the government are now bringing to the table a discussion about an exit strategy from this crisis. Although sources predict that this return to normality should by no means be expected soon, it seems there is definitely a growing light at the end of the tunnel.
One week on from the barbeque that our neighbours kindly shared with us on the terrace, we decided it was time to return the favour and put an end to classic, unfounded gags about the British having terrible cuisine. Very determined to disprove this stupid stereotype, we used every little trick in the book to whip up a good, old fashioned English roast chicken with all the trimmings. Still wanting to observe social distancing practices of course, we served it to them, plated up at their door like a hotel room service. Although having told them to expect it in the late afternoon, they were quite taken aback, presumably because no Spaniard has ever eaten such a huge meal at 6pm. In fact, no kitchen in the whole of Spain has probably ever been open at this strange, limbo hour of eating (reserved only for English culinary barbarians of course). However, fear not my fellow countrymen for we did you proud. Despite the ungodly hour at which we served the food, our neighbours Inigo and Marta were apparently blown away by the famous English roast and said, when we saw them during the daily clap, that we have set the level very high. My mission to persuade every Spaniard, one-by-one, that the British do in fact eat food other than fish and chips, has begun.