Back in November at the AGM of the Neighbourhood Association there was talk of going to Benidorm for a weekend. A couple of weeks ago that vague possibility turned into reality. I got the email. Were we coming?
Now the immediate and romantic answer is a resounding yes. Picture it; we two Brits taking our place as members of our adopted community, striding arm in arm with our compañeros down the prom in search of serious fun.
When I asked Maggie about it she was more realistic. You think it's a good idea now but, when it happens, you'll get cross because you have trouble with your Spanish. First you'll get cross with yourself, then you'll get cross with me and then you'll start sulking or drink too much and leave me to do all the talking. She's right of course. And, there's not that much serious fun to be had in Benidorm at this time of year anyway.
Today I got a second message from the vecinos. They needed a decision and they needed it now. There were lots of outsiders wanting to get on the coach. Proper community members got first dibs.
Of course we'll be there I said. Wouldn't miss it for the World I said.
An old, temporarily skinnier but still flabby, red nosed, white haired Briton rambles on, at length, about things Spanish
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I’d say that the business of doing is never as fun as the thoughts of doing in terms of anything lasting over a half hour. When does the show live up to the chatter and when did the sites look like they do in the cinema? Still, then, you’ll be glad of the trip if even to remember how much you like your own lavatory.
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