Feeding our teenagers always presented difficulties whether we lived in California, Guam or Spain. Spain had government subsidized bread, milk and fish provided real help in filling teenage maws. Another boon to the Harris household was Smugglers’ Cheese.
Smugglers’ Cheese was processed cheese packaged in five-pound blocks and smuggled in from Holland. This cheese provided a tasty and nutritious morsel for our kids and the piranha pack who would periodically descend upon our kitchen.
The black marketer sold his cheese under the stairs of the front of the British Embassy. It was a great location because everyone knew where it was. (The embassy is actually in Madrid and Torremolinos has just a consular office.)
People probably put up with the black marketer because everyone liked the cheese including the embassy employees and the beat cop. However, I imagine he crossed a few palms with pesetas as well.
One day the embassy moved its consular office. A teacher at Sunnyview School complained, “Now where will we get our cheese?”
“Same place,” a Brit teacher replied. “The Embassy isn’t selling the cheese. It’s the black marketer.”
We were all reassured about our source of cheese and the solvency of Her Majesty’s government: they didn’t have to sell to smuggled cheese to pay their embassy office bills.
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