Home from Spain.
Oh how nice it is to be back on English soil. Well, runway asphalt at the moment, as we wait to be transported from Gatwick’s South terminal to the North terminal.
And how wonderful to hear English spoken again;
‘Alright, can you make sure you all got your hand luggage. If you leave something I can’t come back for it, isn’t it?’
Ah! a good cup of tea. Even if it does cost the equivalent of a medium sized African state’s GDP at the North Terminal Starbucks.
Meanwhile those nutty Spaniards are tying rags to bull’s horns, which they then douse in petrol, set alight and let them and bull loose into the barricaded streets of a village, where dozens of mainly young men wait to torment the bull further while trying to evade collecting a wound that might see them bleed to death. They lost one this year! A bull. True! It was somewhere like Fuente Espalda de los Cojones in Castilla La Mancha. One of these bulls went missing. I mean how can a 1,800 lb bull go missing for … well it was three days by the time we came home – they still hadn’t found it! – in a village of 1600 people with sealed roads? They say it’s a centuries-old tradition; so is Morris Dancing.
Given that they were well aware of the size, strength and general demeanour of their opponent you tend to feel they could have chosen garments which offered a teeny bit more protection than Shorts, vests, trainers, neckerchiefs and wristbands.
Ahhhhh! Cosy Eastenders, Corrie and X factor. Like a comfy pair of slippers.
The banter with chirpy, colourful Cockney Cab Drivers, after you ask them to take you to Ruislip from Heathrow. Now that’s entertainment.
What about parking in Spain? Unbelievable… and when there’s a football match they park anywhere they want: on roundabouts, bus lanes, pavement corners. The police seem to do nothing. Most irresponsible.
And that’s the Old Bill themselves on a traffic island
Traffic chaos on match day Valencia
The Queuing! There wasn’t decent queue the whole fortnight (Apart from the one above). And what good is arriving in a shop and asking ‘Ultima Por Favour?’ Ultimate what? Hits of the eighties? TV Cops shows? How are we supposed to know?
Sainsburys/CO-OP/Morrisons/Tesco/Budgens their appetising and rich collection of produce. Food treated respectfully.
Whereas in Spain they have that stupid excuse for a festival where all they do is throw tomatoes at each other! I ask you. With all the hunger and need on the planet; what a waste. And dangerous too. There are literally hundreds of Japanese tourists injured every year because inconsiderate participants – probably drunk – have thrown their tomatoes without even openening the tin first!
Yes, how nice it is to be back on English soil.
And the rain! God it’s good to see some rain.
And some more rain … and more: drip drip, drop drop …
Oh how nice it is to be back on ….
© Andy Daly 2011
Are you mad Daly, O I’ll take that back, I alway know the answer. So you had a lovely time you cant fool me, sun, beech, beer and– well not that, but if that as well then great.
No way, Murph. I think the big difference is that they LIVE LIFE. We talk about it too much.