In the summer I wrote from Ireland of the Biblical rain we had one day that engorged the streams coming down from the hills and coloured the water a dirty brown. That was nothing compared to the rain we had on Christmas Day last week.

We heard it during the night hammering down on the roof of the house. The rain had quietened in the morning but now we could hear the sound of the stream that ran down the side of the house which had been transformed from a gentle trickle into a thick deep ugly torrent that spilled angrily over its banks and flattened the grass and weeds that ran alongside.

It was Christmas Day and so the rain didn’t matter too much as we were going to be spending the day inside eating and drinking and opening some presents. I had squeezed into one of our bags some packs of Gubbeen bacon from the stash I keep in the freezer at home. We had that for breakfast and it was good to have that reminder of summer and Ireland.

As we moved on from breakfast I started on lunch. The rain abated slightly over the morning and the stream calmed down and it looked as if we were over the worse.

Suckling pig had still been an option until some of the younger members of the group were in the supermarket and saw them on the counter and it dawned on them that suckling pig was baby pig. There was a chorus of complaint and so I went back to my original plan which was to make a vast dish of lamb with honey sauce. The recipe is from Claudia Roden’s book of Spanish cooking and seemed particularly apt given where we were.

It is simple enough to make.

Fry some finely chopped onions in olive oil a heavy dish that will be large enough to take the lamb.

Once the onions are done remove them with a slotted spoon and put to one side. Then brown the lamb in the pan – adding more oil if needed.

I used up two shoulders of lamb which I cut up into large chunks. I kept the bones to throw in as well.

Once the lamb was browned I added the best part of a bottle of wine wine, three tablespoons of runny orange honey, a couple of teaspoons of paprika and salt and pepper. The onions were then tipped back in and the pan was topped with water. All that was left for a couple of hours to simmer quietly whilst we opened some presents.

In the meantime the rain had started up again hammering down in grey droves seemingly boiled up from the hills and mountains that surrounded the house. The stream was rising again and soon is was higher than it had been in the morning. There was a flash of light and a rumble of thunder still some distance away.

There was another flash of light and this time the thunder came straight after and was directly over the house and the noise of it shocked us out of the festival spirit. The lights in the house flickered briefly and then all went off. The electricity had gone.

The male members took charge and there was a frantic scrambling around for candles and fuse boxes. There was nothing to be done with the fuse boxes and it soon became apparent that it was not just us who was without electricity – the power cut was general over the area. Instructions were shouted not to use up the candles until it really got dark.

The rain was coming down more fiercely now and was mixed up with slushy hail. The house was built on a slope with a steep drive that ran down to the front door where there was a step up of about eight inches. Brown water streamed down the drive and gathered down by the front door where is quickly rose so that it was lapping at the top of step to get into the house.

We measured the rising stream and in the meantime I continued to cook. Fortunately the oven was gas fired and the only thing I lacked was light as the kitchen area was in a dark part of the house. There was a door I could open to let it some of the grey light from outside but every time someone passed it and saw it open they closed it again. So my cooking became a small battle between me and the need for light and the door closers.

We started with Padron Peppers which I flash fried in olive oil with a seasoning of salt. They were some of the best Padron Peppers I have had, firm and sweet.

We then had two different types of prawn. First the Galares, the ones that looked as if they had been hit with a frying pan and then normal looking prawns about an inch long, all fried in oil with garlic, salt and plenty of pepper.

Alongside all  that we had plates of Iberico ham, lomo pork and chorizo sausage.

The only things that were not a success were the boquorones which I tried to fry with too little oil so they ended up being boiled.

The electricity came back on after two hours and we ate the lamb at about 4.30. Thirty minutes later than the time I said it would be ready by.

We ate the lamb with patatas bravas and plates of salad. There was a roast chicken as well for those who didn’t eat lamb and a chestnut loaf for those who didn’t eat lamb and chicken.

Then there was dancing.

The Wi-fi collapsed after two days in Spain under the pressure of having nine teenagers or thereabouts trying to access it at the same time so there is a certain amount of catching up to do.

There are always learning experiences when abroad. We were shopping  in Archidona and getting ready for Christmas Day. When we were there on our first day I thought I had spotted a market and so insisted we go back on Christamas Eve to get our meat fish and veg.

The town was a lot busier than when we had been there before and there were less places to park. We thought we had found a space outsider the post office but then noticed the serious looking yellow lines that were telling us to go away.  I got out of the car and found another space around the corner.

As the car was being backed in I looked behind me where there was a sign telling me how much we would have to pay to park there. I looked around for a box to put my money in but there was nothing there although a short Spanish man in a flouresecent jacket was walking purposefully towards the car. He helpfully guided it in over the last few inches and then started to negotiate over payment.

We explained we were English and held up 2 fingers so that he knew that we were going to be there for 2 hours. He understood and produced a small green ticket and tucked it under the windscreen wiper and then took our money.

The market was a slight disappointment.  We had obviously got there late and most of the stalls were closed with their shutters down. But some were still open including a small fishmonger, butcher and grocer. So we had most of what we needed.

There wasn’t much left in the fishmonger but she had a couple of trays of fresh prawns so I took kilo of those. The butcher didn’t appear to have any lamb but there were a couple of pert looking chickens in the cabinet. There were two elderly ladies in front of me and the talk between them and the ladies bahind the counter was tight and constant. The ladies behind the counter were wearing red Santa Claus hats and every so often one of them started to sing Jingle Bells in Spanish. The two chickens had gone by the time it came to me but they were able to fetch another one from the fridge out back.

We then went to the supermarket which was substantially busier than it had been last time we were there. The highlight there was the fish counter. It overflowed across the aisles, the trays spilling over with fresh fish There were hake as thick as a man’s thigh and next to them a fish of similar size I had not seen before, they were a vivid red and angry looking. Someone ordered one and the girls behind the counter had to man handle it onto the scales it was so big the tail lopping out. I bought my boquerones and half a kilo of some strange looking flat prawns, in fact prawns that looked as if they had been hit square on and evenly with a heavy frying pan.

Last night I had to look on with some jealousy as brother in law Steve cooked supper in an enormous paella pan. The boys had found the pan in a shed down by the side of the house whilst exploring during our first afternoon here. It is about three feet wide and once found it had to be used.

The ingredients were bought in the supermarket that afternoon. Two bags of paella rice, chicken, prawns, clams and mussels, reed peppers, saffron, paprika and onions.

The pan was far too big for the oven and so we decided to balance it on top of the barbeque.

A full bag of charcoal went onto the barbeque and the fire was then stoked up with pieces of dried hard wood. The pan was lifted on to, oil added and the ingredients tipped in.

The barbeque developed a fierce heat the flames from the fire curling up and over the sides of the pan. Steve stood over it shouting instructions for water and stock and pouring it in, spatula in hand, turning over  the rice and vegetables to stop them from burning.

Now we need to try and work out how to wash the thing. Someone suggested the swimming pool as the water is too cold for anyone to be doing much swimming.

First night, Saturday night we managed to finish off the bottle of Patraran. Fortunately there were eight of us drinking it so we were able to even out the consumtion.  It was far healthier than sharing a bottle between three or four. Even so there was a slow thud at the back of by head as I woke up. Lying in bed and thinking it over I remembered spending half a day walking rould the Prado in Madrid with a Patcharan hangover and standing in front of the great panels painted by Hieronymous Bosch and his visions of hell.

Out of bed was the sun was shining again and so went went on a walk through fields of olives . Apparently there had been heavy rain a few days ago and the ground was heavy and claylike underfoot and covered with fine stones. The trees were heavy with black fruit the branches weighed down.

There was the occasional pomegranate tree along the side of the path. The remaining fruit on those trees had an obscene look about them, the red skin torn apart and dirty and the seeds plucked out by birds.

The walk took us to a small village and a bar.  There was one man behind the bar. He took the order for drinks but looked nonplussed when we asked about food. He shook his head  and said something about this evening.  Looking at our faces he asked if we wanted tapas and then went back inside.

Five minutes later he came out with four plates of deep fried anchovies. They went in a minute. We worried that that might be it and went inside to order another round of drinks. There was a menu on the wall but he shook his head again as he saw us looking at it. He asked about tapas again and we all said yes. There was a local policeman stood at the bar in his green uniform and stiff black staff cap. He held a small rounded glass that looked like it contained brandy.

Five minutes later the man was out again with another four plates. These had slices of black pudding and small bread rolls that had been filled with pieces of pork cooked in tomatoe sauce.

As we had those he brought out another four plates of fried fish  – a mixture of sardines and pices of cod. They had been dusted in flour before being deep fried. The last few plates were of pork – a mixture of thick pieces of bacon and small slices of thinly sliced loin.

It was a a very good lunch.