Pants

 

The “inspired” choice of linen trousers proved to be my undoing

Just as I was entering the Museo National Centro de Arte Reina Sofia , I caught my right pant leg on the corner of a door.

Gawd knows just how 

But it ripped up the seam some seven inches or so as deftly as if someone had taken a knife to it 

And so there I was, in one of the most prestigious museums in the world with a pant leg flapping around like a sailors bellbottom.

I continued my tour of the museum looking like a twat

Photos of the Gala

 

Silvia looking emotional on the fifth standing ovation 

This woman needed to be seen to believed

I was in the stalls at the back near the first light 

Homeward

 Im flying Iberian home and upgrated to buisness for peanuts just for the hell of it. I have a slight hangover but its not a deadly one. 

I got talking to Noel last night who is part of a sort of Madrid singles do culture group. He is a retired journalist and spoke english with ease.

He was intrigued at me coming so far to see grupo Talia, but understood once I told him i was divorced. 

He was widowed for 4 years and insisted he bought me a drink. His son would take me to my hotel and an hour later he did just that, weaving in and out of the late night Madrid traffic like a rally driver.

Airports are jolly places

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

Coffee, Art and Parks

 It’s hot here but I can do everything at my own pace saw Picasso’s Gernica at Museo Nacional Reina Sofia then after coffee spent the day around the Parque del Buen Retiro.

The concert tonight is a mismatch getting there  via the metro, so I am going my taxi and will return via tube.

I haven’t felt hungry but I had some wonderful tasting ( but terrible looking) Patatas Bravas in a cafe overlooking the Alfonso XII monument a late tea, and several chouros for breakfast

Spritzer

 My driver was adorable. Big as a bear and with a lisp to die for, he couldn’t speak English much we but chatted away like old friends without really understanding what the other was saying .

Madrid has no beach but the people are warm was the gist of his lecture

The woman opposite wanted it so bad

My hotel is near Atocha which feels like soho in London and my room has two balconies! 

 I’m writing this in a bar overlooking a fountained square with a large Aperol Spritzer 

And all is well

Linen Pants

Just changing planes in Barcelona for Madrid 

I’ve got my linen pants on and look like demis roussos

Constellations

 The hospice has kindly let me off on Thursdays so I can see my own clients. I saw my first client for the second time this morning and had my usual self debrief over a coffee in the car afterwards, with the window open and with rain on my face.

There is a beach at Abergele, where I park up. Apparently it’s a notorious doggers beach but during the day, thank the lord there is not a heaving buttock to be spied .

So I made my mental notes and relaxed.

Last night Chic Eleanor and I went to see Constellations at Theatre Clwyd. 

This reboot of Nick Payne’s 2012 play is a love story where physicist Marieanne ( Gwenllian Higginson) meets Bee keeper Roland( Aled Pugh) and they  act out brief repeated scenes from a whole series of possible relationship scenarios, with the outcome changed each time.

It’s a rather wonderful piece , that generates its own rhythm  and in one moment the actors lapse into Welsh, which is an nod to the performance in a week or so’s time which will set entirely in Welsh .

The cottage felt cold and unloved when I got home. So I went straight out again, walked the dogs and stopped by the shop to buy logs and some cheerful Ice cream. The cheap vanilla stuff, you used to love as a kid.

On my return the log burner was soon lit and as I ate the ice cream ( so slowly so it turned slightly frothy) I packed my bag for Madrid