The End Of A Lovely Evening

 

Its been the best night ive had in a long time.

Im miles from my hotel but sod it. The concert has finished after five encours and I followed a group of happy 60 something Spaniards to a local bar where im having a massive Gin.

I havent joined them, ive just shared a lovely concert with them, one that i will have to show you when the videos come out rather than to describe adequetly. 

It was lovely and couldnt have been more Spanish if you given King Filipe a sombrero and a litre of sherry to down

The lisping choir, men in victorian spanish flat caps and women all hands on hips with their shawls, belted out some doosies as dancing flamenco girls with castinets to die for wowed the local audience to such a pitch that they stood and yelled for more.

These were a class act

The whole experience was totally untique,and im not ashamed to say I  cried at the end, and ive cried a little now as I sit on the fringes of a group of chattering Spaniads without a bloody clue what they are saying.

A few days ago Anon on the blog kindly reminded me that im making the best of a bad job. That the experience would have been better with aman on my arm.

I agree wholeheartedly to that oh so not kind comment. But do you know what? 

Im going to have another gin, im going to pluck up courage and chat to the person next to me, and i'll find my way back to the hotel slightly pissed in a wonderfully chic city, and oh so happy that I came in the first place

Buenos noches