One of the things I really miss about the UK is the Bank Holiday. Being able to put the grandkids in the car and drive off to spend the day at the local DIY Superstore!
Letting the kids run riot, screaming their heads off and emptying packets of screws and bolts and scattering the contents all over the place. Ah, happy days, but I digress. This blog is supposed to be about my life in Spain.
Talking of Bank Holidays, I must say I don’t trust these foreign Banks so I keep my money in an old established British Bank, the good old HSBC (The HongKong and Shanghai Banking Corporation!!! mush be shum mishtake!) and just get my cash from the ATM.
After coping with a full English breakfast I have a light lunch, usually a genuine Cornish Pasty (made in Murcia!) washed down with a pint of John Smiths. I can’t get on with foreign lagers although they’re a good deal cheaper, still, won’t be accused of being a lager lout will I?
After lunch I generally go round a market, there’s usually one close by on every day of the week. I don’t usually buy anything, although they have some good bargains, at least I think they do: It’s a question of having to ask the price, ‘cos a lot of market traders don’t speak any English you know, I suppose it’s a general lack of education.
I mean, we were all taught English at school weren’t we?
I do most of my shopping at Iceland or other local British supermarket. I find it so much easier to understand the instructions on the packets. Although, I must say that Iceland can be confusing over prices: If it says a pound on the packet they charge €1.35 not a bad exchange rate, from their point of view, but with the rate at present at about €1.12 to the pound, a bit of a rip-off for us customers!
I like to go back to the beach in the early evening to watch the tourists. They all descend on the beach at about ten in the morning like a load of lemmings, stay there frying all day, then hobble away home like boiled lobsters at about six o’clock.
It always makes me curl-up laughing.