Tuesday 24th November, Marjal et al

Monday we went to Murcia, the capital town of the Murcia district funnily enough. Went the pretty way i.e. past building site and men mending the roads. Arrived and spent forever trying to find a parking space or pay car park. At last! The municipal hospital cark park hove into view. Drove down this narrow spiralling slip road into the underground car park, followed by a few other cars. “Err…John, how high is your truck ?” “Well pet, it’s slightly higher than that sign that says 1.8 m”. Back up! I have noticed on many occasions that when we are in any sort of trouble, driving wise, it’s “Your truck”. Any other time it’s “My (her) car”.

Took a little while to convince all the other cars to back up as well, though but. My Spanish is improving because I think I understood everything the other drivers were shouting at us. Using our trusty GPS finally found one that we could fit in (just) and proceeded to “Shop”. Where are all the shops? “Don’t worry (me worry?) I have a nose for shops”. “So have I Pet, if it’s a Kebab shop”. So off she walks in what turns out to be totally the wrong direction.

There were no shops; we were in the centre but apart from the odd hat shop and coffee place, zero. So she bought a hat and had some coffee.

Luckily, (luckily?) SWMBO had spotted an Al Campo at a place called Thader Mall on the way into Murcia, so I was instructed to get there asap so she could have a good look round.

Now all you guys know the routine, basically she wanders around picking up cushions or whatever and you just might get lucky and stumble across a vast hardware store or the Spanish version of Hanford’s. You know and I know, it never happens.

Then I was tricked into entering hell. IKEA!

I have been in one before, the one just outside Croydon and I swore I would never enter one again. Once you get in you can’t get out and you have to follow their pre-ordained route through the store; and there are cushions everywhere! Apparently we only went in because she said I wanted a spice rack, true, but she would see me in hell before she allowed me to have one. So what was the bloody point in the first place then? I’m going to make one on the sly and WELD it to the wall. We managed to buy nothing.

On way back we stopped at a Mercador to get some groceries and as we were loading the car a guy with about a hundred goats was herding them just off the road, as you do. “Get the camera, get the camera!” and she proceeded to take lots of shots of goats which to me, as goats are not the prettiest of animals, was a waste of my time upon this earth.


When we got back we decided to give the cribbage night a miss and had another salad with little thin eels in it. I said I would have a walk up to the bar and check out the cribbage action (action?) so we could make up our minds for next week.
Went up and ordered a whiskey. Now I didn’t order a double, or treble or fifthtuple or whatever. What I got however was basically half a pint with an ice cube. Now don’t get me wrong I like whiskey, if fact I like whiskey so much I have stopped buying it. Especially a single malt of any kind, the smooth liquid golden flavour, the taste of honeydew mixed with a hint of peat, the……………………I better stop there.

Anyway, I drank it and managed not to order another. When I got back, “Fancy a game of Cribbage?” Not likely mate you would easily beat me tonight!

Decided to “map the streets” of Guardamar to find out all the important shops like, hardware, caravan accessories and where to get gas fittings etc. On bicycle, so we could get lots of exercise cycling up and down the streets. Then I found a map of Guardamar that we have picked up from the Tourist information the first day. Opened it up and of course it is detailed with hardware, caravan accessories and where to get gas fittings type shops. We went anyway, but the tight fitting jockey shorts I had bought earlier didn’t really do their thing and my hernia is as bad as ever.

Got back, had lunch and sat round reading in the Sun (22ºC’ish today) listening to about 30 Germans having lunch and getting more drunk by the minute. They are now shouting “Yabadabado!” at the top of their voices, oh what fun.

Passport news; e-mailed Fernando what’s his face and he replied that everything was OK now and we may be home for Christmas after all.

Steak and all the trimmings tonight, Lidl red wine and the West Wing, can life get any better?