But this wasn’t necessary, for my two brothers came down the aforementioned ‘steep’ staircase, the one in our house, and, like the strong, sturdy young men they were, they grabbed the bundle and carried it all the way upstairs. My mother watched them with pride; suddenly she paid no more attention to me, what could we do about it!: «The last shall be first, and the first shall be last» (Matthew 20:1–16).

“Be careful not to hurt yourselves, it’s very heavy!”

“Don’t worry, Mum, we’re grown, ups now; we can handle this and much more!”

The box, as in previous years, was placed in my parents’ bedroom, thus avoiding the temptation for us to snoop through its contents.

A few days later, and of course before the toys were handed out, my mother, as she did every year, would secretly check them, using as a guide a letter inside the box that Aunt Raquel had placed there. She assigned the toys to each of us according to who they were meant for; Aunt Raquel was very ‘crafty’ and, knowing our ages as she did, had already allocated the toys to us. My mum respected this arrangement, though not entirely; with some of them, she made changes to the recipients as she saw fit, ‘that’s why she gave birth to us!’, as she always argued. And no one was going to tell her what each of us was like.

"This one’s for Leo, who likes building things; I don’t know why Raquel’s given it to Damián!" she also had a habit, on occasion, of talking to herself; I’d heard her doing it more than once.

The sorting went on until she’d distributed them all; as most were missing their original packaging, she put them in boxes, writing the name of their future owner on each one. Many of them were shoe boxes, which she’d been saving up throughout the year for the occasion.

The idea was to give us a bit of excitement when we unwrapped the toy and to get us into the ‘Christmas spirit’.

…On Three Kings’ Day, first thing in the morning, near a nativity scene we’d set up in a corner of the dining room, we ‘unwrapped the presents’.

I was the first to search through the boxes for the ones with my name on them; my brothers let me do it, as they’d already stopped believing in the ‘Three Kings’.

A few minutes later, without waiting for me to finish ‘checking’ all the presents, my siblings took control and found their own presents.

"This one’s for me! It’s got my name on it," Leo claimed.

"And this one’s for me!" Damián didn’t want to be left out of the spoils.

Within minutes, the presents had been picked up and taken away by each of their recipients. And as if imitating dogs, all of us, although we were looking at our own presents, were more interested in each other’s. Dogs do the same with bones or food; what could we do? Deep down, we’re all animals…

The other toys, the ones from the Spanish Three Kings, were more ordinary and predictable; mine was a ball, which, given the material it was made of, wasn’t expected to last long. One of my brothers was given a ‘Geyper Game Set’; it really annoyed me as it was a toy I’d wanted.

These games, which first appeared in 1945, consisted of a large, beautifully designed box containing a huge variety of board games. They came in various sizes depending on the number of games they contained: 10, 15, 25, 35, 45, 50 or 55 games. There were the most popular ones, the ones we all knew, children and adults alike, such as Parcheesi, Goose, Checkers, Chess and even Roulette, complete with its mat and even its little ball, which was the first thing to go missing.

To these had been added all sorts of games; I’ll mention a few just to remind you that there are board games as well as ‘little consoles’: Jacks, Take and Put, Marbles, Indian Race, Wild, The Hunt, Ketekojo, Add and Multiply, Dernier, Take, Noughts and Crosses, Squares, Words, From Power to Power, Jaquet, Sempre Avanti,

Rush, Halma, In-Out, Speed Halma, 421, Gobang, Pyramid, Tippy, Assault Game, Pentaline, Chalma, Meta 24, Chinese Checkers, Marelle, Derby, Quinielas, Flea Game, Dice, Tira, Cheeky, Raffles, The Wheel, Sole Fishing, Lotto, Snakes and Ladders.

There was no shortage of different decks of cards for playing solitaire, poker, rummy, etc. etc… The company that made them was 'Industrias Geyper', owned by Antonio Pérez Sánchez.

When we showed off our toys the next day, it was a sort of competition to see which ones were the best.

We were the envy of the other children; ours were American, and nobody else had them. I was the first to have a sort of 'Madelman', a plastic cowboy and Indian about 30 centimetres tall, very well made, which were articulated and could strike “poses”; these figures were complemented by a range of accessories, such as a canteen, a bow and arrows, a pistol and a little bag that looked exactly like a purse down to the smallest detail.

“Come on, Billy, get your gun out!”

“Your cowboy’s much bigger than mine!”

“I know, ‘Michel’, this one’s made in America!”

“I’ll swap it for my ‘colouring box’!” that was what my friend treasured most, a huge box full of crayons in every colour.

“What the hell do you mean ‘crayons’? I wouldn’t swap this for anything!”

Another present I received that I continued to love for years, a rare thing for a child to like a present for more than just one Christmas, was like a Spanish ‘Exin Castillo’. I can’t quite remember its name; ‘Skyscraper Builders’ might fit the bill and give you an idea. It contained a whole variety of white plastic pieces, with which you could build a skyscraper, very American! It had windows, walls and even a tower spire with a long antenna. I reckon even today, I might still find a piece or two at my mum’s house...

He also used to send lots of ‘puzzles’, but as they didn’t come with their original boxes, to put them together you had to rely on a sort of template, made from the puzzle’s promotional leaflet, which my aunt had ‘sneaked’ into the parcel:

"‘Michel’, can you tell me where this piece goes?"

“Hold on, don’t throw me off now! I’m trying to fit this piece into mine.”

“Right, but yours goes in that corner…”

“Bloody hell, don’t tell me that! Can’t you see I already knew!”

That bloody 'Michel' didn’t like having things made easy for him, unlike me, who didn’t give the slightest thought to a welcome bit of help from others. Once his last piece was in place, my friend paid attention to me, and within seconds he’d already spotted its spot:

“Put it there!” the smart alec told me, guiding my hand to the spot.

“I’ve got just a few left now, one, two, three… and fifteen.”

“Do you want me to help you now that I’ve finished mine?” he offered, and I accepted his help. “Let me have a go. I can’t see it properly from here!”

In the end, it was he who finished putting it together. I don’t think I ever managed to put one of them together completely on my own; perhaps some of the pieces were missing, I suppose! It can’t be that that ‘know it all’ 'Michel' managed to do it and I, being smarter, didn’t.

I suppose that from her home in the United States, our aunt would be laughing her head off; for my mother was careful not to tell her about her Spanish nephews, reactions to her toys.

Raquel always looked out for her sister; after all, she was practically the one who had raised her. Our grandmother passed away shortly after the end of the war, and my mother took on that maternal role.

This tragedy was what led to all the sisters moving to Barcelona, where they lived with an aunt, my grandfather’s sister, who had died many years earlier, but who was, after all, ‘family’. And in those post-war years, all the relatives helped one another and ‘crowded together’ just to get by.

It was in Barcelona that my aunt met her future husband, Erwin; they met at a hospital where he was doing some sort of medical placement, and Raquel was studying nursing. It was love at first sight, and they got married before the end of the course. The newlyweds set off for the husband’s homeland, and it seems my aunt made a sort of vow as she left: «Even if I have to kill, cheat or steal, I swear to God I’ll never go hungry again!».

It was a phrase similar, with the necessary reservations and a focus on the present!, to the one uttered by the character ‘Scarlett O’Hara’, played by the actress ‘Vivian Leigh’, in the Oscar winning film ‘Gone with the Wind’:

«Though I have to kill, cheat or steal, I swear to God I’ll never go hungry again». And at least “Vivian Leigh” certainly didn’t have to go hungry; she was paid $25,000 for her role in the film, though she did work the 125 days the shoot lasted. Her co-star, “Clark Gable”, pocketed considerably more: $120,000 for just 75 days.

 These were substantial sums of money in 1939, the year this adaptation of Margaret Mitchell’s 1936 novel of the same name was released. Produced by David O. Selznick and directed by Victor Fleming.

…And as I mentioned earlier, my mother had two jobs – what’s known as moonlighting. And she didn’t do it on a whim; it was out of sheer necessity… Her other job was as a seamstress, and with these two jobs she managed to contribute to the family budget. Which, as was the case for most families, was never enough.

She sewed on the various machines that came and went through the house, from the pedal-powered one to the electric one; with them she made all sorts of garments: trousers, shirts, jackets, and so on. She also made curtains and tablecloths. But the real income came when she was hired to do regular mending or alterations to clothes. Her client was a department store in the city; twice a week, a man in a van would bring her new orders and collect the finished ones. Another man also came every week and brought her an envelope with money. As it happened, a few days later, whilst the ‘troop’ was in the living room, the doorbell rang:

"DING, DONG!" Isa, go and open the door, it’s Mr Miralles!"

It was the only visitor my mother was expecting that afternoon, and she assumed it was him. My sister went to the door and opened it immediately…:

“Come in, Mr Miralles, my mother is waiting for you!”

Without saying a word, the man entered the house and followed my sister, who led him into the dining room. He was a man of few words, or rather, a rude one.

"Hello, Mr Miralles! Shall I sign the receipt?"

"Yes, Antoñita, here’s your money! As always, it’s in the envelope, and this is the receipt you need to sign." Without looking at what was written on the receipt and without counting the money in the envelope, my mother signed the document; despite it being money paid to her for her work, our need for it made her behave as if the company were doing her a favour by paying her for the garments she had made.

"Right then, Antoñita, see you next week!"

"See you then, Mr Miralles!" she said, accompanying him to the door.

Once the paymaster had left, my mother opened the envelope, took out the money and counted it:

"One hundred and fifty-two pesetas. Don’t even touch this money! We’ll use this to pay this month’s instalment on the machine." She was referring to her latest purchase, her new sewing machine; what’s more, it was electric and could even do embroidery.

That’s how this ‘industrial’ sector worked, and thank goodness, for many families survived on this income; most companies didn’t declare it or pay tax on it. ■

END OF CHAPTER 4.

Find out more about:

“El Cantar de mio Cid”

“The Song of El Cid”

...is the oldest surviving Castilian epic poem. Based on a true story, it recounts the exploits of the Castilian hero “Rodrigo Díaz de Vivar”, known as El Cid; and is set during the 11th century, a time of war on the Iberian Peninsula between the Kingdom of Castile and various Taifa principalities of Al-Andalus.

It is considered a national epic of Spain. The work is preserved in a medieval manuscript now held at the National Library of Spain. [↑]

The story begins with El Cid’s exile, after his enemies had unjustly accused him of stealing money from King Alfonso VI of Castile and León, leading to his banishment. To restore his honour, he takes part in battles against the Moorish armies and conquers Valencia. Thanks to these heroic deeds, he regains the king’s trust and his honour is restored. The king personally marries El Cid’s daughters to the infantes (princes) of Carrión. However, when the princes are humiliated by El Cid’s men for their cowardice, the infantes swear revenge. They beat their new wives and leave them for dead.

When El Cid learns of this, he pleads for justice from the king. The princes are forced to return El Cid’s dowry and are defeated in a duel, stripped of all honour. El Cid’s two daughters then remarry the crown princes of Navarre and Aragon.

“The Poem of El Cid” (also known by this name), unlike other medieval European epics, is written in a realistic tone; there is no magic, and even the appearance of the Archangel Gabriel (which occurs in verses 404 - 410) takes place in a dream. However, it also departs from historical truth: for example, his son is not mentioned, his daughters were not called Elvira and Sol, and they did not become queens.

It consists of over 3,700 verses, usually 14 to 16 syllables each, with a caesura between the hemistiches. The rhyme is assonant. ■