Archive | 13:50

Three Green Tomatoes As The Wind Whistles Through Spain

14 Feb

Wednesday dawned bright and warm, once I’d thought to open the bedroom window shutters.  Lyn & Sue collected us at ten for a trip to a local market, but not until I’d had a thorough tour of Alison’s villa.  Gorgeous, with a capital just.

The front door is at the back. Must be a Spanish thing.

Alison said we didn’t need our coats on such a nice day, so we left them at home.  To quote the prettiest prostitute the other side of the pond: Big mistake.  Huge.  It was warm in the car, in the sun, but the wind had come via the arctic, I’m sure, having first stopped off in Siberia for an ice cream, and we shivered our way past sumptuous fruit and accordion players in San Miguel market, until I could stand it no more.  I bought the first coat that fit me, splashing out a massive two Euros.  Look at the relief on my face:

I think I had just been goosed by a brass monkey…

It was worth going to the market, despite the frostbite, because I got the Hub some mouldy sausage I knew he’d love; a butter dish (two Euros – the cheapest we’ve seen in the UK is £10); and three green tomatoes:

The crumbs on the stove top are the Hub’s and Spud’s. I would never allow that if I was home, honest.

You might think a) Those tomatoes don’t look that green and b) Why’d she buy them, anyway?  I might answer a) They were all green when I bought them on Wednesday but turning red by Sunday, when I took this picture and b) Because the Hub loves firm, just ripening tomatoes and they are almost impossible to buy in the UK, being stuffed as they are with additives and colouring and having spent three weeks in a greenhouse/a truck/cold storage.

More shopping ensued at the Chinese Bazaar (they are everywhere and really cheap, rather like our pound shops), Lidl (they are everywhere and really cheap, rather like our Lidls) and Consum, a spacious and spotless supermarket.  I bought Spanish cold meats, Spanish sausages and Spanish sweets for my family.  I also bought some Spanish sponge cake which Alison assured me wouldn’t make it back to the house unsquashed, never mind the UK; and she was right and it now resides in a Spanish dustbin.

Lyn & Sue took us back to their lovely villa for a delicious lunch of baguette (I ate baguette with everything and would now resemble one if baguettes were short, stocky and round), cold meats, salad and massive strawberries for afters.  As I had only had a breakfast of a big bowl of cereal and fruit two and a half hours earlier, I was starving, as you can imagine.

The view from Lyn & Sue’s back door.

Lyn & Sue rent out their apartment at reasonable rates.  You can find the details and more pictures at http://www.apartmentatlafinca.co.uk/ It is on a golfing estate but there is plenty to see and do if you don’t golf.

Pudding! Yum. But I had to share. Glum.

We got back to Alison’s at three, having first stopped at another Chinese Bazaar.  They stock everything you might ever need, and I could have spent a fortune there if I’d had space in my case to take everything back.

Alison’s villa is on a hill but the wind had died and we were able to sit out in the sun, reading and chatting.  Then it was time for a siesta.  I rather like Spain: shopping, eating, sunbathing, reading, sleeping.  What’s not to like?

We had a Lidl lasagne and baguette for dinner (delicious) and settled down with some wine (59c a litre and even more delicious than the lasagne) to watch a couple of movies…once we’d borrowed a couple of oil heaters from the neighbours, filled our hot water bottles and snuggled under spare duvets.  I don’t think I’ve ever felt more home sick for South Africa.  Winters are COLD, but mercifully brief.  Alison had warned me, hence the thermals I wore to death while out there.

Part of the view from the patio.

Joke 327

14 Feb

A cannibal son and his father are out looking for food.  They are watching people walk down the street.  The son suggests a plump woman but the father rejects her, saying that she’s too fatty.

The son suggests a thin woman.  Father refuses, because she is too skinny.

After a while the son points out a gorgeous woman, not too big, not too small.

“Sure, son,” the father replies, drooling. “We’ll take her home and eat your mother!”

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