The day finally arrived and I felt like an expectant mother without the contractions, and fear that I would have to push out a bowling ball within a short space of time. The goats were arriving, and everyone was excited. Now in typical Spanish fashion the guy had said 6pm which in all honestly can mean 6pm any day between now and Christmas.
The Spanish have a unique ability of having the worst time keeping in history, and everyone thinks it is ok, by smiling and saying "manana manana" however, this can be incredibly frustrating. Now we have lived here for over 6 years and 80% of the time I can go with the whole always late, never when they say they will however, when I want something I want it NOW!
So there we were sat waiting, and waiting, and waiting, in fact my son sat in the drive screaming random things like, "what time did he say" " are you sure he said today" when are the goats getting here" as only children can when things don't turn up on time... disappointment began to grow as I realised that manana really did mean manana on this occasion.
Suddenly at 9pm a van turned up at our gates and the garden centre man got out with a small box, puzzled I asked what was in the box. As he looked at me as if I was stupid, he told me my goats were in the box of course. Well yeah I would have guessed that anyone could have fitted two baby goats into a Spar box! However, there they were curled up and unsure of their new destiny.