There are two ‘difficult’ months in Frigiliana, February and August. These are the months when we hit our temperature extremes. In August, as I already commented in previous posts, the temperature climbs into at least the mid-thirties and possibly even higher. In February the problem is cold, often combined with high winds adding a wind chill factor. This year we are experiencing more cold than usual. An Atlantic anticyclone is pushing the air from Central Europe across Western Europe and through into the Iberian Peninsula. In the north of Spain conditions are horrendous. More than two hundred people had to be rescued from their cars by the Civil Guard and the army’s emergency units. Roads are closed due to deep snow, overturned trucks and abandoned cars. Brits landing in Santander a couple of days ago to head down to our region to enjoy some winter sun, have instead had to sleep on floors in hotel lounges and local sports halls until the weather improves, though it is forecast to get even worse through today and tomorrow. Doubtless they won’t have packed for such conditions and must be feeling utterly miserable right now.
Where we are it’s nowhere nearly as bad as that, but we have snow on the mountain tops. Our daily maximum temperatures are around ten degrees, though the wind makes it feel much colder, and the over night last night was zero degrees. The effect of the cold is exacerbated for us by the fact that Spanish houses and apartments might better be considered brick tents when it comes to thermal insulation. We have no loft insulation, for instance, because we have no loft. The other side of our ceilings you have the roof terrace; in between only concrete. So February is a month to be endured rather than enjoyed. More so than August. In August, when the heat of the day starts to dissipate around nine o’clock in the evening, people can go out and socialise out of doors. In February you stay indoors in the evenings as it’s too cold to go out and about, and even if you did go out, you’d likely meet no one. Except tonight. A group of us get together every six weeks or so and meet for a meal in a local restaurant, usually a couple of dozen people, so it’s all organised ahead of time and we get a limited choice, set menu at a keen price. Tonight is one of those group meals, so it will be wrap up warm and head off through the village to La Bodeguilla, for a typical Spanish meal washed down with good Spanish wine, and an evening among friends.
