..... fortunately not for very long.
At second coffee this morning, that delightful 10-20 minutes when, depending on the degree to which the palm fronds are swaying, the sun passes from the top fronds of the lower palm to the lowest fronds on the taller and strikes you full on the face, not for long enough to merit moving but for just long enough to feel the bones being warmed through, my daily quiet contemplative moment was shattered.
Not by the hoover as that had been put away. I knew this because its whine had ceased and I had been summoned to coil the cable, nor by the removal of the washing from the washing lines strutting their stuff outboard of our balcony rail as that had been removed whilst I was restoring the hoover cable to its unmolested position.
No, a loud, harsh babble of noisy people marched, the only word to describe it, down the narrow road to my left, stopped en masse at the road junction with the promenade, were arranged in orderly groups of half a dozen or so at a time to stand on the platt and point digital imaging devices at me. All seeming to talk far louder than the circumstances or environment merited. Once I'd been captured by all of them the next group took their place and those satiated with their subject strutted briskly to the other side of the road and loitered like those trying to appear inconspicuous and being unaware of their failure to do so. I haven't had my photo taken so often in such a short time since last April.
As each group were stood and dismissed I looked at each lens, camera, iPad or smartphone through my binoculars to establish the quality of the images I should expect to be on facebook by now. I have to say there was some pretty impressive kit, only one white lens but lots of red flashes and at least two red circles. Quality stuff, then.
These were definitely foreign foreign and very, very smartly attired. As you know, my comprehension of style and co-ordination with regard to clothing is not entirely worthy of any serious consideration and granted that I am still highly sensitive to the memory of the sights of the day before yesterday from which, I fear, recovery has been slower than I'd like. Even now a smile is trying to develop into a laugh but there's a sleeper letting her tea go cold not far from where I'm typing out my analogue notes so I must be careful lest I disturb her.
They were exceedingly smart, something about quality stuff, the way it hangs, or sits. I may be clueless but I recognise quality when I see it in some things. Summoning someone with far more understanding than me I was grateful for confirmation that my observations were correct.
Not only were they exceedingly smart they were exceedingly loud. And exceedingly efficient. They did exactly as the lady in a grey suit with pale blue scarf and clipboard adorned with TUI in red told them. She ushered the groups into position, dismissed them with a well practiced sweep of one arm whilst beckoning the next group with the other, all the time displaying the clipboard from under her armpit with military precision. For some reason I was reminded of John Cleese in an episode of Fawlty Towers, I suppose it must be because Manuel was from Barcelona or something.
Even those dismissed wandered not far away and remained focused on the lady with a clipboard. A few took images of their own volition but not many. Mostly they just stood in their groups, at least a coachload, 50 plus in number, about the same in average age.
The clipboard was now on the platt and speaking loudly with her back to me. Definitely foreign. I didn't understand a word but she obviously instructed then to get in their groups and assemble by the statue of the good doctor a few metres away as that's what happened but no one was more than a few paces from the marshalling point at any time.
Once satisfied, clipboard motioned with a sweep of hands, arms and hips in one exaggerated but well co-ordinated flourish toward the direction of the narrow street through which they had descended mere minutes before and off they trooped from whence they came. All over in no more than five minutes or so. I was so glad that they'd discovered soft soled shoes.
Now, after all that excitement peace has broken out once more on the prom and by now they're back on their coach and we are left to breathe a sigh of relief that they have decided that there's nothing more to capture here and that this place was not worthy of an extended occupation. At least, today, they have the comfort of knowing that in this winter they got as far east as they could in this part of the world without needing a navy.
It just made me realise how little it would take to ruin this place. Even being here makes me feel unworthy and very grateful for the opportunity. Big thanks to two! You know who you are.
One thing is for certain, they didn't get to the market. We did. The give away is the approach road filled with large white vans in various states of (dis?)repair and even a few artic tractor units sans trailers. I haven't seen so many white vans in one place since Fords Eastleigh works shut down.
I though that it must be impressive. We'll go again next week and I'll tell you then if my first impressions were right.
Spring time weather this afternoon. No swim, blue skies alright but not always where the sun was. High cloud diffused the shadows and then strangled the life from them before letting a watery sun peek through for a while before catching it and shoving it back behind them. So this afternoon we went and sat on a rock and watched water gurgle round it. Left the hat, took a fleece. Gentle breeze from the north. Cool but not yet chilly.
The evening stroll, using the 75% working escalator, was undertaken for pleasure rather than necessity for the first time tonight. The early evenings are warm, still and very pleasant as the chico babble will testify.
The place starts to come alive after 1830 and tonight we found a mucho cheapo 1Euro shop to replace the broken mug and aquire an orange juicer as oranges seem far cheaper than orange juice. However, we happened on a carniceria where we could have bought a cured ham for 100Euros but instead we got the best olives so far, stuffed and cheap but the biggest joy was finding Oli Olio. I haven't had that since we were on a small island in le Baleareas. Much joy, and little of either left. The cook will not be best pleased but she's already praising the red and I'm told that I have to try some with the chicken and onion concoction. By then I may be alreday filled up, if not with stuffed olives y pan y oli olio then with San Miguel. Got a nice little Mahou for tomorrow, though!
I believe that plans have been made for a trip south tomorrow. Oh, well. Best appear willing.
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