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Y viva Espana...

Words from a Bird.  Day 105

Today my sister reminded me that it was only eight sleeps till we headed off to Spain with our excellent friend Mrs W.  This is an annual event, and the three of us have never missed a year yet although other friends and family members dip in and out.  One year there were ten of us, which was really too many.  We all know what it's  like when ten women get together to discuss where they're going to eat.  I think we walked past twelve restaurants one night, all taking time to look at the menus, before discarding them and deciding there might be something better further up.  There never is.  I came to the conclusion a long time ago that they probably all share the same kitchen, have the same menu, but just have different spelling mistakes.  Favourites over the years have included:

Pork Cop
Craque Monsuer
Steamed Crap with Ginger (Spanish Chinese restaurant)

As an avid tea drinker, in the absence of my PG Tips, the Spanish offer Horniman teabags.  This always raises a laugh over breakfast, and there's always a lurid tale to tell.  The tea seems to have taken a back seat over the last two years though, as the hotel we go to has started serving Prosecco with breakfast.  It's ever so nice on my cornflakes...

So this year, we have my mother and aunt spending half their holiday with us.  They realised a couple of weeks ago that they had planned this all wrong, as the four days spent with the three of us are at the end of their week's holiday.  I am not too sure what they are implying, because these two are the worst when it comes to the wine.  If there is ever a shortage of Rose wine somewhere in the world, you can bet your screwtop bottle that they would have visited there quite recently and drunk the city dry.  They'll deny this, of course, but the truth always hurts. 

To alleviate the alcohol problem, we have booked two different hotels to spread the load slightly.  No doubt by day four, we will be venturing further afield, probably by taxi as we would have already worked our way through the bars which are in walking distance, looking for that last bottle of Rose. 

So we'll drink gallons of Rose, eat too much Steamed Crap and not sleep enough at night.  We'll get dressed up to go out, then spend the rest of the evening complaining that our shoes are too high, and our dresses too tight.

But we'll talk, and we'll laugh.  We'll sing Karaoke and play daft games, and we'll definitely spend at least six hours in the sunglasses shop (A personal favourite of Mrs W who must have more sunglasses than Simon Cowell).

So be warned...if you're heading out to the Costa del Sol over the next two weeks, you might do well to go prepared.

Take a couple of bottles with you...you can't be too careful...

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