Summer 2019 Episode 7 - 30th July - San Isidro - Quesada

Still with me after all this time? I have to say that you’re a glutton for punishment, but never mind, I’m very glad to have you with me. I’ll begin today as I ended yesterday with a shout out. My middle daughter Zara was a little put out that I made a shout out for Tony and Mum yesterday and not her, so let’s rectify that. This episode is dedicated to Zara – I miss you and the whole family loads, but I’ll see you soon.  

Well, there were two major items on the agenda for today, then. The second was a fish and chip lunch out in Quesada. The first, though was the visit of Senor Gas. Senor Gas is not, as you might have deduced, a Spanish gentleman with an unfortunate flatulence problem. (Although I do think I met that one in Madrid last year). No, Senor Gas is the guy who delivers the new calor gas canister and takes away the empties. I’ll come back to him afterwards. It got to about 9 o’clock, and he hadn’t been, so I took John down to the Rekreo Bar for a coffee and a sin alcohol. John can’t walk for any real distance, and so he uses a wheelchair which seems to be assisted by an electric motor – rather like those electrically assisted bicycles you might have seen in the last year or two. That’s great, but the only thing is he goes along at such a clip in it that he’s like Charlton Heston in his chariot in Ben Hur. It’s okay at half nine in the morning before the sun gets too high, but later on in the heat of the day it’s murder trying to keep up with him.  

Now, I know you’ve been waiting for the latest update on the free beer and peanuts situation. Well, all I can think is that we must have really upset the landlord somehow when he gave them to us a few days ago, since not only did he not give us any again today for what must be the 3^rd or 4^th day running, he even ignored me for a couple of minutes before I could ask for dos cafés con leches and dos sin alcohols por favour. We’ve obviously done something, I just wish I knew what it was.  

Okay, so after we’d put the world to rights for the best part of an hour we wandered back, and the empty gas canister was still standing by the gates of the Casa Me Duck. Senor Gas was obviously a little late. Then when we went in we found out that he wasn’t late, but he’d just ignored Jen completely – even though she’d been standing in the gateway, brandishing the empty canister with one hand, and waving a 50 Euro note with the other. – There’s a mental picture to conjure with – I thought – but I don’t think at that moment she would have appreciated had I said it out loud. So anyway we sat down, formulated plans for dealing with the gas situation on Thursday, and forgot all about it. Until about an hour later when there was a furious honking from the street, as another Senor Gas arrived in the street. This one was the usual guy, and so the transaction was carried out  as it should have been. Who the hell the first guy was, and what he’d been doing is anybody’s guess, however, it’s worth noting that about an hour later a third one turned up honking at the end of the street. Is there a sudden rush on calor gas in the locality? Is everyone preparing for the little known local event, El Fiesta del Propane? I think we should be told. 

So to lunch then. We ate in a fish and chip restaurant in Quesada, which is about a 15-20 minute drive away from the casa. Or it should have been. Unfortunately my slow ears came into play when we were about 500 yards away from the restaurant, and by the time the instructions of where to turn had percolated through to my brain, we’d gone past. Twice. So we were a good 5 or 10 minutes longer than we needed to be. Now, the restaurant itself was a very, very British affair. Even if you hadn’t have worked it out from the way that the virtues of fish and chips were being trumpeted  from the window displays, the acres of red arms, legs and necks inside would have given it away. Nobody burns in the sun like we do. Honestly, it makes you proud to be British.  

The sketch with this post shows you the restaurant interior and some of our fellow diners. Now, I’d love to have something clever, witty and damning to say about the meal, but I can’t. It was, as they say in Spain, bleedin’ delicious. (Well, they say it in this particular part of Spain. Occasionally.)

 That, in all honesty, is pretty much it for today. We had a chat over lunch, and decided that I’ll go out on a proper all day sketchpedition tomorrow, when it won’t be affected one way or another by Jen and John’s schedules. Not sure yet exactly where – Murcia, Elche and Alicante all have their appeal, and all of them have attractions which I didn’t plumb the depths of last year. I’ll see how I feel when I get to the station in the morning. See you tomorrow.