Seeing red

Our little patch of rural Mallorca – our finca – is not blessed with a swimming pool. Several neighbours around us have a pool, but we couldn’t add one to our property if we wanted to, as the land is protected. During the heat of July and August I often think it must be lovely to be able to jump into a pool to cool off from time to time.

But there’s an upside to not owning a pool – especially after a ‘weather event’ (don’t you just love all those expressions that British TV weather presenters drop into their forecasts?). The ‘weather event’ earlier this week was a storm which brought sand from Africa up to Mallorca, and dumped it with a load of rain on those of us who were foolish enough to leave our washing out on the line overnight! This doesn’t happen too frequently, fortunately – leaving the washing out, or raining mud – but it does make a horrible mess.

Mud, mud, not so glorious mud

Going outside the morning after the night of the mud rain – as locals often call it – we found terracotta-tinged smalls on the washing line, and persianas and white-painted metal garden furniture that were splattered with reddish dust. And worse still, as far as The Boss was concerned, the car was covered in dry muddy streaks.

Dried mud rain on our car - a challenge too far for any automatic car wash!

Dried mud rain on our car – a challenge too far for any automatic car wash!

It’s bad enough to have to re-do the washing, clean the car, and wash down the window shutters and outdoor furniture (still to be done), but cleaning the layer of sand from the bottom of a swimming pool must be horrendous. So, I’ll stick to the Mediterranean for my summer dips, thank you.