My transfer in 1980 from Stavanger, Norway to Burgos, Spain was at short notice.
Burgos is on a dry plateau in the middle of Spain where work starts at 8am stops for lunch at 1pm until 4pm, then back to work until 8pm. A most unsatisfactory way to get through the working day, especially when the siesta involves generous wine and beer.
It was over one of these prolonged liquid lunches in an out of town restaurant that I learned from my boss of my assignment. A French drilling ship was to explore along the northern coast of Spain all the way from France to north of Portugal. As the city of Gijon, Asturias was halfway along this coast I would be based there, flying out to the drillship by helicopter as required. Two Irish crew would be assigned to me in my ‘one man base’.
All our equipment was already onboard. A quick trip out to test it all and then back to Gijon to await the call to action.
My duty was to call in with the Gijon office based drilling manager every day to hear if we were needed. His staff consisted of Melchior, his radio operator, and Ana his secretary. The manager inhabited an opaque glass fronted, small office. I would chat with Melchior while Ana used the intercom to see if I could have an audience.
By the time I was shown through I had all the information about progress on the drill ship from Melchior and Ana. Usually very little progress. The boss was stressed out with this lack of progress, let alone success.
Exploration drilling is speculative at the best of times and very expensive. Literally throwing money down a hole.
Any time I suggested I could take a few days away to explore northern Spain he reminded me that my company was charging them by the day, every day, so I better be available at short notice and continue to report in. What a drag. Waiting to go to work is more exhausting than actually doing some.
Each time I visited I couldn’t help but notice Ana’s rings and necklaces. Amazing large diamond costume jewellery flashing in the Spanish sunshine. A bit over the top for a humble secretary. I passed no comments.
I enjoyed meeting my only three contacts with the drill ship. Several weeks along we invited Ana and Melchior, not the boss, to come along to a barbecue at our rented bungalow on a farm, just outside Gijon.
Melchior and I were chatting over the grill when Ana arrived in a rather large new Mercedes. Melchior, seeing my jaw drop, casually mentioned that her parents, who owned a chain of hotels in Puerto Rico had built a retirement villa back home near Gijon. They became too frail to return to Spain so Ana was the sole occupant, not counting her six staff.
She had taken the secretarial job to ‘get out of la casa’ and ‘meet some people’.
“So those diamond rings and jewellery are the real deal?”, I queried Melchior.
“Si, Si, John. You are so quick on the uptake. Now, shall we ask whether Ana prefers your sausages or burgers?”