To Spain

I aint the greatest fan of flying. Never have been. Unfortunately if you want to go anywhere foreign with limited time and even more limited money you have no choice.

However I think I've made a discovery. I realise I quite enjoy the taking off and landing and once you're up there then it's the same as any place where you have no control; but this trip I've discovered that it's airports I hate. The endless hanging around, constant queueing- lots of buggering about. This trip wasn't helped by me forgetting to transfer some sun cream from hand to hold luggage and Luton made a bloody meal of it with me, already wound up with pre flight angst being made to hang about whilst the security wallah took forever to get to my bag to confiscate the offending item. Pam, meanwhile, had unknowingly strolled through all the checks with a pair of nail scissors in her pocket! Now I'm no expert but I'd have thought a pair of scissors posed more of a threat than an old tub of Ambre Solaire so what was the fuss about. Anyway I was a shredded alcoholic mess by the time I got on the plane. Mind you I had marvellous seat with extra legroom (which costs of course) and nobody in front of me. No, I hadn't wandered into the cockpit I was by the escape route.

 First time I've flown Monarch and have to say was treated much more like a human, paying customer than I have been by some at the cheaper end of the market.

I did get very excited as we flew out of London across Herts and suddenly I saw the Grand Union Canal, then Cowroast and then the roof of Independence ! !!Fabulous. Sadly no pictures.

We'd booked the holiday because we were both fed up with the English weather. An apartment in Rincon de la Victoria, half an hour from Malaga seemed to fit the bill. Except of course the weather was a little eccentric and a regular soaking was normal

from our balcony

What a difference an hour makes

We had a good time with a few walks, some excellent food (nearly all fish) and some good wine at a cost to please a pensioner's purse. Spain seemed much cheaper this trip though if I recall correctly the euro and the quid were about par last time.

On the first morning's walk we passed a shack type place on the beach which we thought might be nice for a coffee on the way back. Two minutes later the heavens opened and we were back inside much earlier than anticipated. The glazed walls were rolled down and we plus one other couple sat and watched the hailstones wallop down between us and the sea.

A couple of cervezas later I was more philosophical about the weather having earlier decided to kill the first person that told me how nice the weather was back in the UK

My mood improved even more with the menu del dia.

For 8 euros I got 4 sardines-big'uns

Grilled rosada with sauteed potatoes and broad beans

coffee

and a glass of wine.

All of it superb.

Oh, and of course, bread for nothing.

The food for the rest of the week was of the same standard especially a sea bass of immense proportions enjoyed once again right next to the Med. Bliss.

Pam did some Tai Chi

near the shrine to St Carmen

and invented some new moves courtesy of the water fountain

A stroll along the beach......

Pam in search of a sunbed.....and some sun

and some shells

My knowledge of Spanish is limited. Very. I was very pleased to negotiate the purchase of a sun hat at the local market except of course I looked stupid wearing it and the sun hardly bothered us again anyway. My nadir came in the cake shop just up the road from the market. Sent to buy four croissant  I requested same in perfect lingo. Quiero quatro croissant por favor. No problem or dinada as we locals say.
3 euro 20 was requested and I proffered a ten euro note which was waved away. Panic.
The lady pointed at a machine on the counter and I remembered encountering similar in a boulangerie in France. To avoid staff having to touch filthy lucre during the transaction the customer puts their money in the machine.
Which I did. Only now it was under the glare of the shop assistant and three more customers.
I carefully slotted the 10 euro note into what I thought was the appropriate hole only to find it would go so far and no further. I deduced after a while that I had stuck it where the change is meant to come out, El stupido.
There were now 5 customers and the attention of people enjoying coffee at tables by the window was also now focussed on this arse of an Englishman who not only had stuck his note in the wrong hole but couldn't get the bugger out again. Advice was being offered in Spanish at the speed of a Kalashnikov on heat and I just tried to look like I'd done it on purpose.
I looked imploringly at the assistant who after a derogatory click of the teeth produced a toothpick. After a few seconds (which seemed like an hour) I was able to extricate the note with the toothpick and insert it in the right slot. I turned to face my audience hoping for a round of applause and was met with looks ranging from hostile to pitying.
Clang , clang, clang and my change rolled all over the floor so they could now enjoy the spectre of my ample form grunting round the place garnering what I could.

The plus points? The croissant were lovely.... and I now know what

"pendejo Inglés" means.

I sounded earlier as if the weather was bad. In fact it was warm most of the time and when the sun shone it was glorious. I suppose it was the fact we had come all this way to get English unpredictability  of climate that  registered. As I sit here on a cold damp Bank Holiday Monday I wouldn't mind being back there. As long as I don't have to fly of course. Well not from Luton. And I'll take my own croissant.

A last drink before packing

Malaga Moon

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Back home and the sudden realisation that whilst away I had dined well but had failed to indulge in paella.

I put that right last Monday when Roy and I enjoyed one outdoors. Well it started off outdoors and via the marquee finished up inside the boat. There seems to be a cloud following me.
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Cowroast Moon

Whils browsing other blogs I came across this extract from a post in 








 http://nb-kantara.blogspot.co.uk/2016/05/shakespeare-and-tring-reservoir-cruise.html#comment-form

"Have you ever seen a Boat Boot Sale? Or, probably more properly, a Boat Locker Sale? We passed one today. Six or seven tables under awnings along the side of the canal, piled high with second-hand boat paraphernalia. One or two liveaboards doing a bit of sorting out, we thought."

They had, of course, passed through Cowroast on St George's Day and witnessed our bargain busting auction.

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Fuel boat fills Independence.

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We have a new sign. Now fixed by the bridge to guide the emergency services to us in times of need.

and I have a new raised bed stocked mainly with my favourite broad bean plants and other veg. Those of you that recall last Spring will know I suffered brutally at the hands of the rabbits who decimated flowers and veg in a week. I've seen no rabbits this year and nor has anyone else so they've either been sorted by the mink or they are hiding behind the trees waiting for me to go away. Wish me luck

Veg garden and flowers tastefully arranged on an old chair. Very Chelsea darling.
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A s I write this blog a boat passes by called Stravaiging. Never heard that one so I checked it out.
Apparently a Scottish word meaning to wander about aimlessly.
 Nice to learn a new word and what a great name for a boat. In fact not a bad word for my life.

Off to Oldham tomorrow via an overnight in Bakewell at the excellent b and b I discovered Christmas before last. 
http://www.onecastlestreet.co.uk/

Apart from the opportunity to visit my sister and b in law and family the main reason for the trip to Oldham is to see Ken Dodd. Never seen him live and he's still performing at 88. My ticklestick is poised.

Enjoy your Stravaiging.
Bye for now.