100 Things I Love (Part 3)

 

11. I love stopping YouTube videos then shutting down my computer and leaving the house before the person in the video opens their mouth to start speaking or singing, just because I don't like the look of them.

I wish the real world had a similar facility that did not involve violence.

 

12. I love hearing that people who do things like climb mountains, or enjoy extreme sports, have killed themselves without endangering any rescuers or wasting the time of local medical services. Fuck those selfish bastards.

Rigor Mortis?

 

13. I love hearing my cats finally giving up whining and scratching at the bedroom door, as they finally realise once again that I am never, ever, ever, going to let them in, no matter what they want. Unless they are trying to tell me the house is on fire.

Look the kittie's head splits apart and then flames come shooting out. That's not right surely?

14. I love finding a secret beer stashed at the back of the fridge when I think we have no beer left and that I'll be forced to go out into the hot sun without having had a beer before going out to get more beer.

Pictured is an example, not actual product or my fridge.

 

15. I love the pitter patter of rain on windows. However in Andalusia when it rains it's like being trapped in a 40ft empty freight container left inside a Car Wash for a week, or living nextdoor to Enya.

 

 

Dessert Storm?

It rained last week for the first time in a very long time, but it rained mostly beautifully colored sand from the Sahara, which felt rather exotic, or interplanetary. I had dreams of walking on Mars

Steps to Terrace

Not a Rothko

 

Saint George you say?

This Friday starts the celebrations of Saint George/San Jorge, the patron of the town. The occasion is everything but religious. For thrice days the booze and bulls flow as we set our pantaloons free, hail hail hail San Jorge.

Have a butchers

What could possibly go wrong?

 

Dead Dad’s Dog’s Dead?

Last night was our last show for The Carnaval in Benalup. We finished at 2am to a tremendously enthusiastic mass of writhing bodies. I stepped outside to cool down and was greeted by a stray dog. He gave me an empty water bottle then promptly rolled over into a dead dog type position. He stayed like that. A crowd slowly gathered around him. “I didn't kill it” I said limply. Then suddenly it jumped up and startled us all. He was taking the piss, a party piece, anything fo a Tapa.

It's a bit Francis Bacon bits init.

 

Carnaval

Ok, so Carnaval has just ended. It was a transformative experience for me. Two months rehearsing every night on a diet of booze and cigars, so no change there. However this was team work, 10 men and me, creating a 26 minute kaleidoscopic homage to artisans of the past. I now have a huge bunch of new chums.

The unwritten rule is you drink & smoke for 10 minutes, argue for 5 minutes then play for 15 minutes, repeat for three hours.. However the rule broke down and the equation got seriouly warped, you do the mathematics.

I may have been the first person from outside the town to have played in the Carnival, possibly in the whole of Cadiz, but who cares? I did it and loved it and have many injuries to prove it.

Here I am receiving an award, probably just for turning up.

Yes they are men.

Photos and video courtesy of Clare Lloyd

http://gazules.blogspot.com.es

 

I can be heard throughout but can be seen coming front stage during the segment starting at 16mins which is a couplet about me being their new drummer/bombo. Oh Lordy yes.

 

For Whom The Bell Tolls

A friend died yesterday. His name was Sebastian Perez Cabrera, best know as Chano. He was diagnosed with cancer just a three months ago. I had written about him before. Here http://wp.me/p37Qzz-7D

He used to ring the church bell. Today at 4.00 it will ring for him.

He reminded me of Mick Jones of The Clash. He had never heard of Mick Jones, or The Clash, or anything remotely Punky. He listened to Classical music on a portable radio with one earpiece.

Mick Jones

I'd like to leave the last words to John Donne (John Donne (/ˈdʌn/ dun) (22 January 1572[1] – 31 March 1631) was an English poet and a cleric in the Church of England.)

No man is an Iland, intire of it selfe; every man is a peece of the Continent, a part of the maine; if a Clod bee washed away by the Sea, Europe is the lesse, as well as if a Promontorie were, as well as if a Mannor of thy friends or of thine owne were; any mans death diminishes me, because I am involved in Mankinde; And therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls; It tolls for thee.

You Make Me Feel So Young

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.”

Cheers to that.

Antonio plays to a portait of Paco De Lucia.

 

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.

 

 

Celia turned 15 today

Celia was not singing in front of anybody, including her family this time last year. Now she is unstoppable. This rather poorly caught footage by me is her this week singing to the entire town for Semana Santa. A touching 2 mins, she cried at the end, she wasn't alone.