In Brexitlandia there are a lot of novelty named wines like “Old Git.” They are all by and large rubbish drinks but are popular amongst people who like whoopie Cushions.
Anyhow this local Spanish wine is not supposed to be amusing or descriptive but it might as well be both. I drank it and felt funnier after the second bottle.
It's name is Terrible
The fellow in the background resembles yours truly and that Tesco “Value” Scotch Whisky was bought in Soho for about 5 Quid when Tesco where denying claims that they lured customers in with cheap booze. Again, a terrible drink and I had to fight through a hysterical flash mob of Soho Street Drinkers to get my sweaty trembling palms on it.
A Tio Pepe Fino Sherry enthusiast friend of mine was 80 this week. I took my guitar into the Flamenco Bar on the off chance he might fancy playing it. He grabbed it and didn't stop for an hour. Then he cornered me and asked: “Can you bring your guitar to Manolo's Bar this Tuesday, I'm going to celebrate the birthday of another Tio Pepe drinker, he'll be be 91.”
Yesterday was San Juan, so what you may ask. We’ll take a look at this photo.
This pair of creatures were lovingly made by a neighbour, in secret. She made the suit and the everything else from her own clothes, over two months. They represent Catherine and I. All good so far?
Now look what the town did to these fine figures next.
Quite often the dolls are made up to represent local or national personalities who are famous (or sometimes infamous). The burning of these effigies is supposed to bring good luck but quite often, it is just good fun and it makes a great spectacle, but very odd to witness yourself in The Wicker Man.
I was in Cadiz yesterday and saw this appetising mural outside a place that may possibly sell this product. I wasn't quite hungry enough for cartoon food and opted instead for a realistic looking Havana Club Rum in what might well be regarded as a Spanish Fish & Chip shop around the corner.
Breakfast in Andalusia usually involves eating bread, or drinking spirits. Look closely at this photo and see if you can spot the difference between the rabbit and the slice of local bread. Ultimately is does not matter a jot, as they can be combined or eaten separately.
On the 25th of February a local man walked into a bar. I was propping up the counter. He was holding a guitar. “I need to sell my guitar,” he said in Spanish. The barman, who is a lovely friend of mine and a great flamenco guitar player tried it and nodded in approval at the price, so I bought it on the spot.
There was however another reason I felt compelled to buy it. The TV news in the bar had just announced the sudden death of Flamenco Guitar Revouloutionary Paco De Lucia. I had hoped to see him this year. The two incidents, be they coincidental or not, have since led me on an exploration into this complex soulful music. Here's a snap of it in the studio I am building.
There are a couple The Doors in the background
Song written and performed by Paco and I think he looks great too.
On the way home I mistook these car seats for cops on a surveillance mission, then deduced that they had probably sneaked off down to the pub instead. Waiting for crime to happen is a bit of a bore around here.