Spain 2022 (Week 8)

As we leap into October the overriding news is the fecking mess Truss and Kamikaze have got us into. Pound has given up, confidence has been lost, Bank of England step in to save our pension hopefully and our meagre investments for the moment have crashed and burned. Staggering to hear Truss say Kamikaze just did it without consulting and basically throwing him under the bus. He’s been a twat, maybe that’s an appropriate place for him; but no leader does that - she’s on borrowed time. Starmer isn’t a prospect that inspires confidence though, frankly creepy and snivelling, but I can see a General Election coming; not sure Labour will get this sorted though. What with this shite and Putin rough

riding over mediation attempts by the Turk and land grabbing like an egotistical Czar we’re all buggered anyway. Decided to stay here, ignore the news for a bit and keep calm and carry on in a state of ignorant bliss, hoping it’ll all blow over.

We gained several new neighbours as it seems to be more transient, we’ve had an Exhibitionist couple opposite, a size 6 elderly lady behind us who spends an hour each day doing headstands, a Dutch van whose owners think it’s fine to move stuff off our pitch to access theirs and an English couple who seem to hide in a den they’ve created sat on children’s stripey folding chairs. We have enjoyed chats with a friendly military looking couple and a happy chap from Stafford who’s here visiting grandchildren; one of whom seems to permanently have the shits as we watch him crash on his bike into the toilet block opposite several times a day in a hurry.

We’ve continued to enjoy cycling in the area, and threatened bad weather has not really developed into anything to encourage us to move. This week we’ve been into Moraira again on the Sunday for lunch, followed the delightful 30 km Mirador route, a frustrating 20 m trip to Ondora and several lazy trundles for beers on the Arenal.

The Mirador circuit takes you to stunning viewpoints looking north to Denia and south over the ugly Cumbre del Sol development but ignore that the rocky cliffs beyond to Ifach rock are spectacular. I did learn a lesson on navigation on this ride; that “Platja Granadella” is not “Granadella”; whilst the beach and pretty cove at the former was lovely (as was the steep, long descent) the long steeper still hairpin climb back up to where we started did not endear me to Mrs H. A spot to remember though, with 2 nice looking restaurants, it’s off the beaten track, very Spanish and somewhere otherwise you’d never find.

Saturday’s ride was equally navigationally challenging and sadly fruitless as the Panniers we purchased from the visit to Decathlon had to be returned. They were amazingly accommodating giving a refund without quibble despite the language issues. Google maps cycle routes are not so amazing and we went round in circles and down endless dead ends lost in the stoney tracks through countless orange groves, which quickly lost their prior appeal. In the space of 1/2 mile she’d bark at me to turn left, turn right, perform u turns, head north, head south west and disappear up my own arsehole. A nice steak back at the van that evening recovered the day.

We had another moment on Friday whilst innocently enjoying a coffee in the Port at La Esquina as we’d done several times before. We finished up, paid the waitress and as we were sat in direct sun and next to an English woman with a ferocious and disgusting cough, and no hands or manners; Tracey stood up to stand in the shade and out of her range whilst we waited for our change. This took a while so I decided to leave the change as a tip, so we left. The frankly unpleasant lady (a customer, not staff) then stood up and loudly announced we’d not paid. I put her right and we went on our way; 100 yards up the road and we’re still pissed off - I just couldn’t let it lie. I went back and challenged her to clear our names, she did back down and apologised a little but her husband just shrunk into his chair. Interesting as before he was annoyingly vocal about how much money they have. The owner of the bar is renowned as being shouty and Fawlty like, I was glad he wasn’t around.

The week draws to a close with Tracey’s mum being poorly with Covid but hopefully improving, little we can do other than keep ringing to check on her and be ready to get back if we need to.