11: Sharam

Diary of a Downshifter – Part 11 Downshifting to Spain

Sharam’s new home needed to be remote because of his continuing requirements for daily challenge and I knew that the small place down the track from us belonging to an English couple from Birmingham might well do the trick. They only frequented the place a once or twice a year and upon enquiry were delighted to have someone look after it in the meantime. It had electricity and more or less mains water and was perched on the side of a steep gorge. Having secured permission for Sharam’s move we negotiated a reasonable rent with a consideration for me, and Sharam happily moved in. Unfortunately, this coincided with one of those rare periods in Spanish country life when ‘the system’ decided to start being efficient and just after Sharam’s move, along came the authorities in the form of an electric meter reader, who noticed that the shack had no meter but it did have electricity because with Sharam in it, it had a light on. Rules and regulations in the countryside of Spain were often sidestepped and few people took much notice of them but every now and again failure to obey the rules did have consequences and the consequence of this particular sidestepping was the arrival of an electricity company inspector on my doorstep. He had with him proof that electricity was being siphoned off from a mains line and not being paid for and that as I was responsible for the building, I was responsible for the theft and fraud as well as Sharam and the owner of the property. He informed me that the electricity would be turned off in two days and that the owner, me and Sharam would all be prosecuted for fraud and other nameless charges which he would think about in the meantime. The fact that just about every other house in the area was doing the same and had been doing so ever since electricity reached the area was evidently of no importance. This was out first tricky time with the authorities since we arrived in Spain and it was case of learning fast how to deal with the bureaucracy. I immediately went up the track to the telephone man’s house where the local public phone was situated in the family sitting room and over the blast of the TV, I contacted the house owner. “Oh yes, David, we did fix up some electricity a few years back. Took it off the mains. Why, has the line broken?”  I explained the situation. “Oh well,” he exclaimed cheerfully, “I’m absolutely certain that a man of your calibre can sort it out. Keep in touch though; let us know what happens. Annabel can phone if you’re in prison.” When I had put the phone down, the telephone man’s daughter turned the TV down so that we could negotiate payment for the call and after paying and exchanging the usual niceties with the assembled family, I hurried off home.