Mice & Menus

Whilst having a spot of light lunch yesterday I couldn’t help but admire this questionable choice of photo for a place that serves food. The rodents pictured are from the Tio Pepe Sherry bodega which has been serving generations of mice a glass a day for over a century, the kind workers of Gonzales Byass have even provided their furtive freinds with a little access ladder. I was told by the waiter that the practice has now been stopped due to EU health regulations: How many units are Mice allowed? I asked. 

Britain’s rats are awaiting the announcement of a No Deal Brexit, then the Tennent’s Super swilling drunken bastards will go on the rampage bringing back the good’olde worlde Black Death, probably.

  

 

 

Out To Lunch

The hat, tie and shoes to stop traffic parking on me in the gutter. The rest of me is made of wallpaper.

 

Idle Hands Do The Devil’s Work

 Hello my loves, what a difference a few weeks make eh? Well now that we are all caught up in this fog together we’d best make ourselves as comfortable as we possibly can. I can’t say I have anything that could console you at this time or even possibly divert, my main wish is not to make matters worse.

My Epitaph

“He Tried Not To Make Matters Worse”

I wish to thank you dear reader for following my ramblings into the void and making it a less lonely voyage. 

Now onwards and inwards until we can go outwards, where and what is Wards? 

 So, I have been dancing with El Diablo in the digital domain. Here are a few doctored iPhone pictures that I took this week to reflect Andalucían idle doom.

 

Beer Melting Time

 

 

The Quiet Life

 

 

The Quieter Life

 

 

 

The Art Life

So there we have it. Chins up, bottoms up, don’t let the bugger get you down.

 

Washing Machine Broken? Good

Smash it up and make a slightly dangerous local bar Fire Pit

It works, it's Hip and somebody is going to get burned eventually.

This is Spain

 

Posted with Blogsy

Olive of Shame

Olives are horrible there is no doubt about it. If you like them you are lying to yourself. I like them. I am lying to myself but they taste better if you do. Here in Dandylusia we eat lots. There is a strange custom here of not eating the last one, they call it the Olive of Shame, shame on you if you eat it. Leaving it means you are not greedy, and it applies to everybody sharing the plate with you so nobody nabs it, they nab the penultimate one instead. Pretzel Logic. I often wish the'd only serve one.

 

Forkandles

The other day I was watching the two Ronnie's Sketch that involves a series of misunderstandings encountered tiptoeing through the treacherous territory of duplicitous words, or words that when are put together make ambiguous meanings eg: Ronnie B asks Ronne C for Fork Handles and this is interpreted as Four Candles, and carries on like this through a series of same joke over and over, this sounds academically a bit shit but it made me laugh quite a lot. So, I tried to explain all this in Spanish … I think I got through, as now one nice chap uses the phrase Forkandles all the time regardless of the situation and we both find it amusing, and I no longer know why.

I don't suppose I'lll ever unravel the subtle word play of Andalusian humour. Anyway this package came this morning.

 

A Minor Alteration (Brutal Tailoring in Andaluz)

It doesn't happen too often thankfully, given my propensity for frequenting bars of notoriety, that I get into an unresolvable disagreement with a fellow fool. Thus it was last Saturday that a gentlemanly disagreement compelled me to turn a chair over a chap of minimimilist logic. He left quickly.

I felt badly afterwards but felt much worse when a fellow patron of the bar pointed out the poorly executed alteration the fleeing fuck-wit had made to my jacket. I was however relieved that I managed retain some dignity; my silk pocket square stayed in place during the entire cuffufle.

I usually remove my hat before embarkation, as this usually signals to any fellow wrangler of my unhappy intentions, i.e. To instill a firm understanding of “The Gooobye Look.” He shall be hearing from my Tailor!

 

Ham & Cheese or Cheese & Ham?

I have been eating out and in Andalusia Spain, a lot. It is not the greatest place on earth to be a vegetarian, I imagine that place to be devoid of a single living creature to slaughter. I'm not even considering being a vegetarian, so I don't know why I am going to keep mentioning them.

Why don't we make meat look like vegetables?

If you wish to be assured a lengthy and healthy life you should become a vegetable in Andalusia, you’d be completely unfettered here. This is a haven for those who like to kill and eat an entire pig in one sitting, and why not? There is little else better to do in the long restful hours between breakfast and dinner.

Here my friend Antonio tucks into his luncheon

I know a chap in Barcelona, Oli Max (Renaissance Drinker) who's epically long lunches verge on Dangerous Sport, he and Dorian Crook (Comedic Vegetarian) have monikered their gastronomic marathon with the term “Extreme Lunching.”

Why drop out of an aeroplane when you can drop into a restaurant?

Andalusia produces incredibly lively cheeses, aged in olive oil that the carnivore might consider as a meat substitute.

I do think we should consider fashioning cheese into the shape of some sort of animal carcass

 

Dali Straits?

Did Salvador Dali fly over The Gibraltar Strait in a dream balloon to conceive his painting of The Persistence of Memory? Observe my fellow observers the similarity of the melting Dali self portrait on the sand and then cast your observations to the arial view of The Rock that is Gibralter. Day by day I have come to consider Dali less a Surrealist and more a Realist.

Did Dali simply copy future postcards?

You decide

 

South Boundless

As I took this picture Housman's poem drifted into mind. This pretty much sums it all up for me.