Death In The Afternoon

Everybody Dies. Some sooner than others. I went to the funeral of a friend yesterday. I will miss him. It was an incredible send off. I hope he would have been proud of us.

So here he is alive again, a few seconds in the life of a life well lived.

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.

 

 

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.

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?

 

 

Paco De Lucia

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.

I found a unicorn amongst the acorns

I was staggering back from a heavy bout of luncheon yesterday when in the clearing appeared a unicorn, minus horn. The flora and fawna were looking pretty psychedelic at that moment in time due to my penchant for Tio Pepe Sherry mixture. The phone somehow captured it. I think this animal was sleeping as it did not budge when I shouted at it, can they die standing up? They're like mammal tables really.

A Spot The Horse competition for the soberly impaired

 

NEVER MIND THE PIG LEGS

For the casual observer, if that you be, this shabby chic photograph of two pig feet in my living room may hold no value whatsoever, but to those of you who may have an eye for fine detail it will be unavoidably be drawn to the awareness of a highlighted black dot. What the fuck is it you ask your well trained eye? I shall tell you. It is a spider. Not that interesting, and out of focus to boot you say? True, but this spider is literally hanging by a thread, from the ceiling, mmmnnnnn a bit dull you may grunt? BUT Sirs and Ladies this spider is by all accounts a Dead Spider. Yes, DEAD LEGS BORIS on a thread. Was it going up or coming down? We shall never know, perhaps it was attempting a corner, we shall not know even after the Coroner has left. Was it a suicide? Was it hoist with its own petard, or did it run out of yarn? Poor fucker swinging in the breeze like that. Feel a bit bad about taking the photograph now. Pondering the plight of the pigs.

 

Chickens Miguel Of Cryogenic Beer

I've been offline for quite a while so apologies for lack of postals. Here then is local hero bar owner and roaster of highly aromatic chicken, Chicken's Miguel. He has also mastered the art of creating sub zero bottled beer that is not frozen on the inside, and you can see that he is rather proud of his achievement. If you look at the calendar behind him he has thoughtfully nailed a rubber chicken on to it, which is nice. Observe additionally the curvature of his torso reflected upon the counter.

 

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