I Feel Terrible I Look Terrible I’m Fifty Fucking Five

Yesterday was one of my Birthdays

It was early but the temperature was already climbing into the mid 30's so I switched on the garden misting thingy as the church bells rang out 8 AM.

 

Misty Buff

The bells reminded me of my dad's funeral who died at 55 on my 31st birthday. Note to self: I am still alive, don't get smug.

Bish Bash Bosh

I decided to make mayonnaise with garlic, alioli, sod Hellmanns. The picture is not the finished article, just the garlic you understand.

 

Time for A Latch Lifter

 

POV of feet and filthy kitchen floor, nice

I am wearing a Jellaba made from an old sheet. I feel and look like a psychedelic hammock: Pillock.

The Alioli is to go with this

for breakfast

I am not pictured, or am I?

A bit weird all this, as it was Fruits De Mer with Chablis and Alioli, which may originate from Provence, so it's bloody French. Still it's all in the EU init? Actually it felt oddly exotic. I might try Fish & Chips soon.

 

One is now, as I write this the next day, horribly hungover. After Brexifast I sauntered on to a swimming pool bar, and subsequently a series of drinking houses of questionable quality, finally arriving back at breakfast this very morning to another Latch Lifter.

 

I am now taking this for Gout

 

 

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Found My Tipple

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.

 

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La Pasión Española

I am overwhelmed by passion

fruit

The flowers look as though they were created for the cover of a 1950's Sci-Fi comic

 

I bought the seeds from a funny looking geezer with tentacle eyes down the market the year before last. He said the plant “bleedin' well loves the climate down here on earth”

I hope to be making Passion Fruit Bellini's later with a view to the stars

 

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Night Mayor!

One of the many good things so far this year has been not having to vote for any of the bastards in the UK. However I did vote this Sunday at the local Spanish elections and we are now Socialist, that's all well and good but I refuse to ever wear open-toe sandals.

The newly elected mayor came jauntily up to me after his inauguration and with a gleeful grin boasted:

“I dressed up as your wife at the Carnaval.”

I believe this to be good omen.

 

 

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Cruzing Camp Style is a Sin

No April Fool, this is the local lager in Andalusia, only it isn't, This pile of crapanakins is Alcohol Free. What in the name of God's Butt Plug is the point of it and why is it in my Spanish Castle? It is given away free every time I try to buy a case of the proper stuff. I am inundated with this blight on the bar top. Luckily the local restaurant said they'd swap any of these cans for the drunk version anytime, now that is a far better deal: Free Alcohol Beer.

 

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X Factor Anduluz

Most days in Andalusia there seems to be something slightly and unusually wrong going on, thank heavens I say. This was happening in the town yesterday. I believe the world might descend into a magnolia abyss without this sort of mind bending entertainment. Fabulous musical accompaniment. Thirty nine seconds well spent.

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All the World’s a Stage …

1. 
   … And all the men and women merely players;
   

   They have their exits and their entrances …

… and many of them are destined to watch on from the Restricted View seats, or are paid poorly as butt doubles for Noel Edmonds and the like, Thanks Shakey.

Carnival or “Carnaval” is happening in Cadiz as I write this. Why the F#%% am I telling you this? Well, last year my wife and I were parodied for 20 mins by a mind bending performance of men dressed as us, flesh curdling stuff. To add an element of LSD 'ism I joined them when they played all the bars in town over the weekend. I thought I was one of them.

Here is a minute of the opening few verses with subtitles, thanks for video and translation by Clare Lloyd.

Here's a selection of disturbing images. I was confused, even days later. Reality is stronger than any drug.

I am the one with the bottle, or am I?

 

 

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