Relishing a routine

Last week my twice weekly Pilates classes recommenced, and I set off on my first run this week. Ouch. How painful it’s all been but also wonderfully satisfying knowing that we’re heading into my favourite time of year. I adore the winter in Mallorca, the peace and quiet, the cool nights and mornings and the excuse for a roaring fire. The sea becomes clean and clear again with the boats all gone and the beaches deserted. Nothing can beat it. I always say that from October to mid-June, the island is a paradise but then it becomes a bit of a challenge as extreme heat, footfall, traffic and tempers become the norm.

Friends of ours staying on holiday during the sticky months rarely think about the problems, which is understandable. They spend their days like lotus eaters, swimming, dining al fresco, staying in lovely hotels, going off on charming excursions and not having to think about the pressures back home. I’m always happy for them but of course, for us workers and residents, it’s a different scenario entirely.

Out of the clink

There’s been a lot of polemic in the UK about the early release of prisoners to make room for more violent offenders roaming the streets. This is a risky move on the government’s part but is presumably a desperate measure. I visited one of the UK’s prisons for hardened criminals many moons ago and was amazed at the fantastic facilities. Aside from a state-of-the-art gym, cookery room, cinema wing and library, there was an opportunity to make money with paid-for manual work, often making products for public use. I’ve no idea what other prisons are like but an old colleague of mine from my Mayfair days wound up in Wormwood Scrubs for drug offences and had a whale of a time. He was impeccably educated and connected, gay and very ebullient. We all thought he wouldn’t survive but he ended up running the library and taught fellow inmates how to write their own life stories for potential publication and acted as a counsellor. He was so adored by inmates and staff alike that he got early release and became a changed man.

I imagine those hallowed days of prison life are gone, given the sheer volume of felons entering the system now, but there are still evidently perks. Several prisoners released early have complained, saying that they’d much rather have remained in their cells rather than be thrown out on the street where they’d have to spend their first nights on a park bench. What a terrible indictment about Britain! Imagine wanting to stay in prison. Something has gone terribly wrong in society when being incarcerated is better than freedom. And why are there no support systems in place for these early-releasers? It strikes me that many will re-offend just to get back in the slammer.

It reminds me of my time in Sri Lanka just after the tsunami when I was raising money through marathon running for a girls’ orphanage in Colombo set up by nuns. When I visited with the family to hand over the money and meet the children, the Mother Superior told me that they’d had to take in one little boy whose fisherman father had murdered his mother. He was a delightful child, and our son, Ollie, spent time playing with him during our visit. What shocked me the most was the fact that his father welcomed a long prison term as he’d have food and shelter. Perhaps the UK is getting to this stage, when it’s better in than out?

Cleaning up

For many years while I was working crazy hours in London, we had a cleaner, as did all our friends. How lucky we were! Once we moved to Mallorca, we did the same and having help at home while I was travelling extensively for work, was fantastic. Our last cleaning duo here, who have been working for us for years, announced recently that as one had procured a fulltime job, they’d sadly have to end the arrangement. They are huge fun, and we have hilarious conversations in Spanish usually about local gossip and politics, so we were sad, but totally respected their decision. Times are tough and the security of a fulltime position cannot be underestimated. Various kind friends suggested new cleaning teams and our duo also offered to find replacements, but we decided to dispense with help altogether. Much as I work all hours, the simple fact is that the cost was high and we began to think what we could do with that money instead. We could save it up and take some well-deserved short breaks. A holiday? Perish the thought!

As a teenager, I did a lot of the household cleaning and when my mother became ill, did all the cooking too from the age of 14. All the same, when I was 16, I was taught how to be a perfect Mrs Mop by a fastidious German lady whose house I cleaned every week after school. It was good money and boy, was she fussy. Nothing escaped her attention, and she’d have me dangling from ladders, dispelling loose spiders’ webs and getting the dust off the tops of chandeliers. It was great training, and I passed muster because she gave me my first job in my university gap year in Germany when her husband took up the position of Head of Chancery at the British Embassy. It was a fascinating experience being the au-pair. I met some leading government figures and VIPs in an informal setting over supper as I was one of the extended family, and that was a thrill at the time.

So, once again, I’m back to being Mrs Mop and saving myself a lot of dosh. As long as one is disciplined, it’s not so bad and I do get a sneaky pleasure out of it too. Whatever the weather, I remind myself that the saving now forms the backbone of my holiday fund, and that surely is motivation enough!