Now That's What I Call Music Vol II

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Real Gone Kid

Having arrived a little late at the start, Nick made up for it by leaving a day early.  There was a tear in my eye as I waved him off...then I realised I could take his bedroom.  This was particularly welcome since Plum's snoring was so bad last night I ended up sleeping on the sofa.

Not Fair

The Spanish do not appear to have any concept of 'weights and measures'.  In Blighty we have rules about such things and people to enforce them.  If you buy a pint it will contain 20 fluid ounces....or if it doesn't you are required, by law, to make a sarcastic comment to the barman.  Something like "could you fit a scotch in there?" is traditional.  Because Malaga is an area with many Brits, every bar offers a beer size called a "pinta".  If you are very VERY lucky this may indeed be a pint but usually it is just the biggest glass they have, which could be anything from about 40cl upwards.  You won't need me to tell you that this is a shabby trick.

Y Viva Espana

Today we returned to Torremolinos but ventured further west along the coast.  It turns out the bit of Torremolinos we had previously seen is the classy bit.  We cycled past endless English bars and cafes, shops selling 'British food' (whatever that is) and countless hotels full of fat, white, tattooed and almost certainly English holidaymakers.  When we gave up and turned back the view ahead was similar for as far at the eye could see.

London Calling

Tomorrow, we head for home.  The bikes are packed and we are busily drinking our remaining 'supplies' before heading out for one last overdose of meat at the Rodizio.  The 'drinking holiday with a bit of cycling' format has worked well; we got in some good rides but it never became a chore and having a fixed base you can strew your underpants around is a bonus.

Don't relax yet! On April 1st Plum and I are off for another little jaunt, this time to Portugal.  More of that later.


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