If it wasn't for the fact that I get Clubcard points and the vast majority of my long haul flights have been funded by converting these Clubcard points into air miles, I might consider shopping at Lidl. The food appears to stay fresh longer (unless it's my fridge) and it's defiantly cheaper, even after adding in the fact I give all my coppers to the ubiquitous Lidl Romanian begging woman. Just saying!
I got some new neighbours two days ago, English, can't decide if it's her son or toy boy. They have got a very handsome Labrador though. I'd have a dog if I was going to stick with the nomad theme. The only problem I have is I could not "NOT" , do the poop thing. The very thought of it, even though your hand would be inside a plastic bag makes me wretch. Could you get used to it? I'm not sure, but getting a dog and finding out you can't would be a bit of a problem.
Last night I went to the local pub with my new mate Jim. Jim is a 70 year old ex long distance lorry driver and he is the archetypal 'grumpy old man' but great with it. He stays a Camp Cabopino pretty much 9 months of the year. Knows everyone and everything about the place. After he had lent me his battery charger (which is working famously) , he invited me to join him and a few mates at the local. They have a darts team and on Wednesday night they practice in preparation for the Friday night match.
Off I went, had a great night, met some interesting people and had a belly full of beer. I have been asked to join the dart team. Not because I can play darts, but because I seem to be the only person that can do simple subtraction. It appears to be a be an area of development for the team.
The weather today has been a bit shite, while warm it has also been cloudy with a cool wind. I decided to once again risk the 'cannonball run' and go into town. Not driving, but by bus. We had a lady driver today. She took no shit or prisoners, when she wanted to go, she went. That road still scares me, the thought of leaving here is causing me some anxiety already. I think I may invest on one of those traffic cones, park up my van, run up the motorway, stick it in the carriageway before entering the main road!
While in town I decided to do a bit of research. There are a couple of "must do's" while I'm down in this neck of the woods. Gibraltar and Morocco. Originally I'd thought about taking the van over to Morocco for a few weeks, the fact I've now got a warning light has made me have second thoughts. Not to be outdone though, I've secreted, in one of the many 'compartments' in my van. My backpack. So, my intention is to leave the van here and take public transport to the port, a ferry to Tangiers, and have a few days on the African continent. I was chatting to a very helpful chappy who can sort it out, he can also do a trip to Gibraltar for €12 euro and no delays. Ding Dong!
Tonight I'm going for full on Andalusian cuisine. Irish sausage, Heinz beans ( auto correct was insisting it was Heineken ) and cheesy mash.
Washed down of course with a glass or two of red, Rioja. When I was young and foolish I used to think that Rioja was pronounced Rio Jar. As opposed
Ri okka. I must have made a fool of myself in many a restaurant!
As I take my dinner from the oven and glance across the pitch to my neighbours. I can confirm the lady next door has a 'toy boy'. Unless she's still breast feeding......
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Location:Artola,Spain
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