The Luckiest…

 My kick off track for this trip is slow start from a favourite of mine, Ben Folds to ease us in to the travelling mood. The MO of the blog hasn’t changed, a hand picked song from my personal archive, loosely linked to some dubious creative tomfoolery, pathetically described as a purposeful travel blog to link my memories over the years of places I have been and had fun in. A handy video always links the track to the blog to enjoy at the end….enjoy the ride!

So, let’s make a start…

The colourful adverts on the telly over the festive period, promoting sun, sea and dolphins in pristine, exclusive, all-inclusive resorts with first class travel persuaded me to enter the ‘Once in a lifetime’ mystery holiday lottery. All I had to do was text in the code ‘NTWK32’ into ‘ X ‘ to be in with a chance of winning.

Imagine my surprise when a white limousine pulled up outside and a scantily clad model climbed out of the side door, wielding a massive cardboard boarding pass, and started to walk up the garden path. I excitedly opened the front door to receive the prize and dutifully posed for the obligatory photograph to mark the occasion…..

Wow…”I’m ready for this”…I had won the dream holiday!

I borrowed a large suitcase and a small pink fanny-pack from the well traveled Darcy and Imogen, next door. Experienced travellers who had recently returned from a long Caribbean cruise. I didn’t really have enough stuff for the 36kg allowance but I spent the next few days emptying cupboards and loading it up with beachwear, flippers, teabags, donkey jacket, a lilo and several tins of Heinz beans and then sat on it until it clicked shut.

On arrival at the airport, I was taking no chances. I stood and watched in amazement as the case spun round and round on the baler machine as 25 quids worth of cling film was wound tightly round it, equating to about 4inches of added security, before I headed off to the illuminated check in barriers.

I had a feeling that the massive boarding card that I had manhandled here on the tram wouldn’t scan just as easy as a QR code on a mobile, so it wasn’t a surprise when two armed policeman showed up and helpfully escorted me to the office of the head of security to sort it out.

“It’s a crock of Grok, a scam” exclaimed the Chief Officer. “Your’e the seventh loser today that has turned up here thinking you have won a free trip”. 

He laughed as he explained that it was all part of Elong Muck’s new AI chatbot ‘Grok’ that creates visual images, now by virtual telepathy,, in your head, warping your brain and includes non-consensual sexualised images that fool you into thinking it’s reality.

It turns out that when I had seen the limousine turn up, it wasn’t a limousine, it was just Mariuz, in the local DPD van and the bikini clad model I saw was just his fat grumpy Filipino bride that helps him with the deliveries. The paparazzi photograph, again, was just him taking the usual quick snap to confirm delivery and finally, the oversized cardboard boarding pass was nothing more than a small tube of grease for the bottom bracket of the Brompton that I had ordered last week from Amazon….

All this was a bloody scam…I’m gutted.

Completely disappointed, I sat down and looked sadly up at the departure screen showing all the romantic destinations I could have been jetting off to…Tel Aviv, Bogotá, Kuala Lumpur, Frankfurt, Stansted…

….Wait, I’m not going to be beat, I’m here now and I’m packed and ready to go absolutely anywhere. 

Im not one to quit (irony)…I headed straight for the flight desk information.

There are always a few seats available at the last minute so I asked for a seat on the very next flight on the runway and it didn’t matter to me where. I would be going at least ‘somewhere’ for some well deserved ‘winter sun’ after all.

I was presented with a second boarding card and directed hastily to E17 as last call was boarding in ten minutes, no time for dilly-dallying.

I plonked down my luggage at the check-in of the Lancashire airline, ‘Th’Easyjet’ and was greeted, quite gruffly, by a battle axe dressed in orange crimplene with the words “Your over-weight!!”…

The cheeky bugger, if I’d had a bit more time I’d have explained that I’m nearly 60 and have put on a bit of timber due to my over active thyroid and slow metabolism issues but then realised awkwardly that she was pointing to my suitcase.

.”Your entitled allowance for this airline ticket is cabin baggage only” she barked, shook her head and proceeded to slap on a red sticker that said ‘CAT1 - ONLY FOR DESTRUCTION’. She then smiled menacingly, and proceeded to press the button on the desk. I watched on helplessly, as 36.2 kilo’s of cling-filmed ‘Samsonite’ slowly made its way up the conveyor belt, turning left through a curtain under a sign that said ‘ICW COMPACTOR’ never to be seen again!

I grabbed my active boarding pass off her, turned sharply on my heels, with only my borrowed pink fanny-pack as hand luggage, I snaked hurriedly through security and customs, arriving at D35 just as the gate closed behind me. 

Sweaty and breathless I boarded the plane last and sat down in the only vacant aisle seat a pushed my single piece of hand luggage, containing only an iPad and an old leopard-skin, licra thong, under the seat.

I’d made it…finally up in the air!

I sat back as the plane accelerated up the runway and thought to myself, 

Where the hell is BELARUS anyway?

Shaking body…

As part of the fiesta, I could only think that it was the turn of the Basque Separatists to start the day’s celebrations! As at 8 ‘o’ clock on a sunny Sunday morning, hundreds of loud bombs went off in the street outside, shaking and waking the dead and the post party people who were still feeling emotionally fragile!

It turned out the ‘firecrackers’ indicating that the ‘Dames & Divas’ (from Friday night …keep up…) were being rounded up from their colourfully painted houses by ‘The Donald’ Trumpeteers, who were next up the street making a bloody racket…

Valencian Pelota, played in the street was interesting to watch.

Finally, as darkness fell the final solemn parade of the day set off from the little church.

THE END

The groovy ‘Ezra Collective’ is today’s choice of music to wrap things up as these boys can blow a trumpet at a party - see them here on a live session for 6Music.

Fiesta…

Last nights celebrations went well and, as always, the good looking lass with the wealthy family tree was crowned this year’s winner as the other, less fortunate ones just clapped with acceptance.

But now, in the cold 🥶 light of day, there is a big problem in Ador…

The mayoress of Ador, Greta Trumpberg, last night dictated to the gathered masses in the square, that under no circumstances, and from immediate effect, can any fires be lit for fear of starting a wildfire. 

This now sadly means that the traditional cooking of paellllia on traditional paellllia day can no longer go ahead. Special paellllia police have been brought in to ensure that no sparks fly and anyone found with so much as a box of matches will be kettled up dog shit alley and taken away to the specially built paellllia cells in the square.

Th’Ex-Pats and Anti-Climate change activists are feeling deeply devastated and emotional. They have already been to Aldi for all the ingredients and several crates of beer to have the party rug pulled out from them at the eleventh hour.

A few gas bottles arrived and a sound system started banging out the tunes which signalled that the street party had begun…

As the first few drinks started to get poured, it was then time to leave and head back as the chicken & pie and baked spud dinner was ready and on the table!

Later that evening it was the fancy dress parade…

‘Fiesta’ by ‘The Pogues’ and the late great Shane McGowen who was also known for enjoying a chicken & ham pie or two…was the obvious choice for today’s track.

Hot Hot Hot…🔥🔥🔥

The plants are wilting and the shade is minimal as it topped about 40+ on the roof terrace today in Ador. Almost scalding our bare feet on the scorching tiles as we were summoned down when the braising steak and mash and two veg was ready…

Today is the day before the fiesta starts so the traditional trumpeters have been having a practice around the town.

Tonight is a pageant for the girls of the village and to find out which señorita or senora is this years queen. As the church bells ring out we are summoned once again to the infamous ‘Pool bar’ to wait for the start of the parade.

Todays track with a Carrabian vibe is perfect… move and groove with a belly full of meat and veg in the summer heat with a lead man dressed in a pair of curtain offcuts from the 70’s….u gotta problem with that?

Help the Aged…

As we start to engage with our twilight years it’s nice to interact with the European locals to see how they manage as they advance in time and get closer to the box…
They seem to have it a lot harder than our oldies with all the endless hot  sunshine to put up with, sitting about in the shade endlessly, with noisy secedes chirping in the trees and an overwhelming burden of tomato plants to tend to.

There are no winter fuel handouts or free bus passes dished out here, but there are some other perks which we found out about one of them when we got invited to a ‘Pensionista’s luncheon’. 

Held weekly, every week at the municipal town hall, opposite the Post Office, with free entrance its a good opportunity to mix with townsfolk and try the local offerings.

 ‘Menu del Dia - Pensionista Specitali’

Following the ‘all you can eat’ buffet style ‘pescatore’ starter of locally caught Calamari’s, oysters,razor clams and ‘Gambas alla Oilio’, we chewed the fat contently while sipping a glass or 2 of local Cava.

For the main course, those still with their own teeth were offered a meat option, so we opted for a 39 day hung, kilo of prime ribeye, grilled on a wood fire to medium rare, seasoned with Himalayan rock salt and served with spicy Patata’s bravas and seasonal vegetables….to share, obviously…we are not pigs!

Those unfortunate souls without gnashers had the forfeit of cold ‘Gazpacho’ soup…

I have to say, the 2022 Tinto fino, served from the ‘Arrocal’ bodega, washed it down a treat!

All in all, a hearty meal that will hopefully help us to ‘live forever’

I forgot to ‘instagram’ the dish but this was what’s left so you get the idea.

To finish, the ‘siesta’ on the free coach back was very relaxing, getting us in the mood to rest the tired bones in the pool…

…and leave time to contemplate updating the boat?

Today’s track is by Pulp and includes great lyrical wisdom by old Jarvis Cocker who ironically is over 60 now, so an OAP himself! Pulps new stuff is also worth a listen.

Drinking in L.A….

When on holiday, it’s nice to seek out the local history and our next spot was no exception. It was the original home of lager inventor, San Miguel. In 1890 he was a top brewer and prolific pig farmer around here and from these early roots, his recipe is now known internationally, and even drunk in some far flung places like L.A…

Here, in Salem, Spain, he started production on the farm by soaking locally grown hops and malting barley in an old bathtub and fermenting them with yeast and warm, fresh pigs piss to get the unmistakable flavour and charm of this award winning beverage.

Explosions were regularly heard in the village until the original recipe was perfected, a refrigerator was installed, and the brand was licenced as safe to drink. ABV was around 9% back then and you needed a strong stick to stir it with. 

He bottled some then called his mate, big Andy, who had a van, so they loaded it up and set off to a fiesta and artisan farmers market near to Valencia, where they soon realised that they could flog this stuff at over-inflated prices and make a tidy profit.

 After a few weeks, his aunty Barbara, who lived opposite, worked for a PR company and was put on the books to sort out the marketing campaign and soon after, his crafted cold beer was in demand all over the world with the catchy expensive slogan ‘Si, Si, San Miguel’

Nowadays, smiling, well manicured and affluent sexy friends can gather in bars everywhere to enjoy this popular, delightfully golden lager, thanks to good old ‘San Miguel’

And why am I telling you this?…because you need to know!

“I got a feeling for the flavour, the payback will be later”

A cool West coast track from 1997 by band,  ‘Bran Van 3000’ as a perfect funky vibe accompaniment to a cold beer!🍺 Cheers!