A week has flown since my last article, and as I sit here writing, I’m filled with a strong sense of gratitude — for time, for warmth, and for a place that feels so easy to enjoy. Bob Dylan is playing softly through the speakers, a contrast to the lively Spanish Euro Pop pulsing from somewhere nearby, and I’m sipping a cold beer in the sunshine. It’s one of those simple, perfect moments that make you stop and smile.

Last week I left off as we walked to the bar to watch El Clásico — and if that needs explaining, it’s Real Madrid versus Barcelona, Spain’s fiercest rivalry. But El Clásico isn’t just football; it’s politics, pride, and passion colliding on a pitch. In Spain it matters , a lot.
Rooted in history and fuelled by drama, it’s 90 minutes of skill, ego, and emotion that grips.

*El Clásico*

Unlike Celtic versus Rangers, there’s no sectarian divide here — the split is political and cultural, not religious. Real Madrid has long symbolised centralist power, while Barcelona represents Catalan identity and resistance. It’s nationalism and regional pride, that fuels the fire in many cases. .

The game was brilliant in fact, with VAR having its moment in the spotlight, rightly so, as it kept the score from flattering one side. No cross words were spoken here even when tempers flared on the pitch in that familiar feigned aggression that makes rugby fans giggle.

Real won, sparking joy on one side and quiet desolation on the other. Barcelona had a Manchester United loanee in their line-up, but we always cheer Madrid , one of our favourite cities. Still, a cracking night all round, made better by the fact that United themselves had notched up three wins on the trot. Please don’t begrudge me a little respite — we take what we can get!

Rain, Poppy, and the “It’s Only Brian” Trick

We even had rain this week — not much, just an hour — but proper Pennines rain, enough to leave a reservoir pooled in the awning. It soon passed, leaving a clean blue sky behind.

Poppy, meanwhile, has settled beautifully into Spanish life and we’ve learnt a new trick. Back home, she barks when anyone approaches — usually Brian, our 81-year-old neighbour — and we calm her with, “It’s OK, it’s just Brian” , she accepts this and calms down.
Turns out that works here too. Whether it’s Pedro, José, or anyone else, as soon as she starts up, one of us says the magic words “It’s OK, it’s just Brian” and she settles immediately. Who’d have thought it? .

It wasn’t so sucessful on Halloween though where she had to be put in van jail , after being anti social with trick or treaters.

Monday Motivation

My day starts early — 5 a.m. — with a warm-up, interval session, mobility work, and upper-body strength training at the gym. Running’s great, but I’ve learnt the hard way that strength training is essential to keep injuries at bay.

The temperature’s easing off this week, down from 30°C to 24°C, which is welcome. Breakfast has become something of an event since H discovered overnight oats — hardly new, I know, but we’ve embraced them fully. Add a banana, sprinkle some granola, and I’m good to go. It’s become my favourite meal to start the day out here.

A strong Spanish coffee rounded off the session before we stopped at the supermarket. Spanish stores are wonderful — full of choice, colour, and fresh produce.

The afternoon drifted by editing a short video from our Budapest trip - above. It’s been a wild, full-on month — just how I like it. Later, we wound down with The Blues Brothers film. “We’re on a mission from God” — if you know, you know.

Tuesday Training and Apple Maps Revelation

Morning began with a run — four miles with Poppy. She’s a joy to run with; straight, steady, and focused, a totally different dog from her squirrel-hunting alter ego on walks. She won’t entertain a bike basket, though. Clearly considers herself above such things, which complicates sightseeing somewhat.

After leg day at the gym and our customary coffee, we lunched and then biked to Almoradí to find the 10K start for Sunday. The e-bikes are perfect for active recovery. I decided to test Apple Maps after Google’s recent failures — and to my surprise, it was a revelation. Far better here in Spain. It’s now my go to maps app.

Almoradí is a working town — modest, but full of warmth. People are kind, the vibe is genuine. The Almoradi 10K Registration cost just €15, including a long-sleeve T-shirt. No expensive council bureaucracy, no corporate profit motives — just a community club running a local event for the love of it. Brilliant. If you’re not a runner in the UK the cost would be double without a tee shirt in the main.

Wednesday’s Weights and Cold Pool Courage

Another heavy day of training. After tempo runs and weights, it was time for beans on toast — food of champions. (Our Branston stocks are still healthy, you’ll be relieved to know.)

Later, we braved the Tahiti pool. Last time, it was so cold I wasn’t sure whether my chest was contracting from shock or early cardiac confusion. Today was better — probably thanks to the sun. When a couple of Germans dipped a toe and declined to enter, my competitive side couldn’t resist. In I went.

After drying off, H decided she needed a dopamine hit — in the form of an Aperol Spritz. Who am I to deny her? Off we went. Mission accomplished.

Thursday Thoughts

We started early with a five-mile walk around the reserve. It’s beautiful, though insect repellent is essential near the water. Hills sprints and the gym followed.

We lunched out — home made veal ravioli and flan to follow— delicious. Found the place tucked down a side street, the sort of spot that has to be good to survive in such a location.

Halloween in Spain

Halloween arrived properly, and the site filled to bursting with Spanish families arriving in every kind of vehicle imaginable. After the warm-up weekend, this was the main event — loud, colourful, friendly, and utterly brilliant.

The effort families put into costumes and decorations is something to admire. Spanish celebrations are full of joy, noise, and community spirit — there really is no party like a Spanish party. There’s something else though , it reminds me of my childhood community in the North of England. Many of the families here haven’t got a great deal in comparison to their Northern European neighbours , what they have they would share with you, Great people the Spanish , this is a view established over many years now.

Saints, Souls, and Spanish Tradition

As October slipped into November, the energy shifted. Spain slows a little for All Saints’ Day (1 November) and All Souls’ Day (2 November) — two deeply rooted days of remembrance.

Flower stalls bloom with chrysanthemums, families gather at cemeteries, and candle wax scents the cool evening air. All Saints’ Day honours those who’ve reached heaven — the saints, both known and forgotten. All Souls’ Day is more intimate, for loved ones who’ve passed.

Cemeteries become places of gentle beauty, where memory and love intertwine. Standing there, it’s easy to see that remembrance isn’t about loss — it’s about love that remains. These moments remind us that those we cherish are never truly gone; they travel with us, just in another form.

10K Registration and Race Day

Friday saw us back on the bikes to Almoradí to collect my race bib from the local athletics track. A good facility — football teams playing across three pitches, an outdoor café buzzing, and families watching from the stands. It felt like community at its best — people sharing space and collective joy.

Sunday arrived — race day — and the bikes were our transport again, 7 miles to the Estadio Municipal Sadrián in Almoradí.

The sky was red , which tradition suggests difficult weather ahead but the sun rose and it was warm , too warm for white skinned unacclimatised English boy to run in to be fair , 26 degree’s in the shade it turned out , but nevertheless a beautiful day.

We biked to Almoradi , it’s a lovely route and e-bikes warm up the legs nicely.

The event was well worth the effort, even with the heat turning things up a notch. The local community really got behind it — people lined the streets, cheering and clapping every runner as if we were in the Olympics. For the entry fee, it was a bargain, and the goodie bag — complete with post-race pastries — could hold its own against any event we’ve done.

The post-race shirt was a nice surprise too: long-sleeved, great quality, and apparently essential now that winter has decided to make an appearance (albeit a rather sunny Spanish version of it).

The music played, and the buzz of anticipation filled the air. It was another reminder why we love Spain — authentic, spirited, and full of heart.

Sunday Reflections

As the week closes, I’m struck by how much rhythm and richness there is in slowing down enough to notice it. The sound of distant laughter, the quiet respect of a cemetery on All Souls’ Day, the effort of a small town pulling together for a community race — all of it connects.

I’ve realised that gratitude is a muscle like any other — it strengthens with use. And here, under Spanish skies, with Poppy, snoring gently and H planning tomorrow’s exercise, I’m thankful for the simple things: good health, good company, and the grace to see beauty in ordinary days.

Until next time — hasta luego.

A Week of Sunshine, Sport and Spanish Soul