El regreso...

Leonardo and Martha. A nice couple we met on our holiday? "Nice" would be pushing it... Two of the fiercest "named storms" of the season; unfortunately they both visited Andalucia in the same week while we were there.

We arrived on a pleasant, breezy, quite sunny weekend and enjoyed sitting in the sunshine - but after that it went all grey and blustery and showery with sunny intervals, and by Tuesday we had proper rain (and bought a brolly). One morning we had sleet hitting our balcony! Friday (The Madam's birthday) was particularly schizophrenic - on my way down to our regular beach bar Palm 5, the rainstorm was horizontal and I could hardly keep the brolly up, yet by 2pm we had nary a cloud in the sky, and basked in the sunshine until the sun went down! To finish things off "nicely", as we waited for our evening flight yesterday we were huddled at the back of the bar terrace, freezing, and watching the Palm 5 staff fighting to get one of the windbreak roller blinds back into place as Martha had blown its hooks out of their mounts.

We were concerned about our flight taking off in such a "hurricane", but all went well (we even landed in Luton Airport twenty minutes early). Bizarrely, by the time we were having our first British pint at the Wetherspoons at Kings Cross St Pancras, we were warmer sat at their outside tables at 11pm than we had been at lunchtime on the Costa del "Sol"...

We still had a fabulous holiday, regardless! We felt really welcomed wherever we went, had loads of laughs, ate some great food, caught a bit of sunshine on our skin - and burned the candle at both ends with post-siesta nights in the La Nogilera gay area in Torremolinos (as is our wont). [And we're booked to go again at the beginning of May, so there's that to look foward to...]

But what did we miss while we were away? Not a lot, truth be told. The Winter (yawn) Olympics are on in Italy, apparently; sacked former ambassador to the US Peter Mandelson is a bogeyman again, and Prime Minister Starmer's under pressure again; no amount of false posturing from the orange moron in the White House has prevented that evil cunt Putin from bombing Ukraine; among the amazing treasures uncovered during ongoing works on the HS2 rail route are a Neanderthal hand axe, a set of 19th Century gold dentures, a Roman gladiator "good luck" tag, and a gold "three lions" pendant from the 13th-14th Century; and finally - a man had to be rescued from a tree on the Isle of Wight, where he was sheltering from being attacked by an angry cow.

Oh - and tennis totty Carolos Alcaraz became the youngest player to win a Grand Slam. New balls, please...

No doubt what you're asking, dear reader is - did we bring anything back with us to share? Of course. A triple-bill, no less!

Spain's Eurovision entrant in 2024, doing what she does...

Nebulossa - Supersexy

...a proper Spanish number (ish)...

Aaron Sevilla ft. Javi Torres, Alba Dreid & Ruben Hernández trumpet - A tu vera

...and finally, my fave!

Lapili - Fatty Fairy

Is it good to be home? ¡Ni hablar!

We're off...

By the time you read this, we'll hopefully be in the skies on our way to our annual winter break to Benalmadena!

There is a traditional song I always play on such an auspicious occasion, and so - here it is:

Righeira - Vamos A La Playa

It's traditional.

"Normal" service will resume sometime next weekend, dear reader...

I would rather be just a little shady

¡Olé! indeed. Just one more day of tedious slog to go, and it'll be time to slam that laptop shut for the next seventeen days!

As you are no doubt aware, dear reader - we're off to Spain for a week tomorrow (followed by - for me, at least - another week off to mong about, pottering in the garden, no doubt).

To mark the very welcome end of the week, how about a little bit of Spanish campery..?

Gracias Disco ¡Es viernes!

Baccara - Sorry I'm A Lady

Have a great one, dear reader!

Just too good to be true?

Benalmadena has changed a bit since the 1970s

With only a couple of days left before we bugger off in pursuit of some sunshine, one might have expected to be able to wind-down a bit - but no, the tasks have just been ramping up instead. Bastards!

I don't care. One-and-a-bit days... then at 4pm tomorrow, sod 'em all!

Meanwhile, here's one of our fave Spanish combos, without whom no countdown to a (hopefully) stress-free holiday on the Costa would really be complete...

Las Seventies - Can't Take My Eyes Off You

Ah, that's better.

Earth below us, drifting, falling

Indeed...

Among another assortment of celebrants, including Alan Alda (who blows out 90 candles on his cake), Colette, Acker Bilk, King Henry VII (Henry Tudor), Jackson Pollock, Sir John Tavener, Harry Corbett (creator of "Sooty"), Ronnie Scott, former French President Nicolas Sarkozy, Olympic champion Dame Jessica Ennis-Hill, Sir Roy Clarke (the genius behind Keeping Up Appearances, Last of the Summer Wine and Open All Hours - thankfully still with us, aged 96), Nick Carter, Frank Skinner and Elijah Wood, it is the 70th birthday today of a true "one-hit wonder", only really known outside his native Germany for this Bowie tribute way back in 1983...

Peter Schilling - Major Tom (Coming Home)

An inspiration for (the far more successful) A-Ha, perhaps..?

Viele glückliche Rückkehrer, Peter Schilling (born Pierre Michael Schilling, 28th January 1956)!

Shanties of the damned

The bus station of every town and city is a wild, lawless place where society has broken down entirely and madness reigns, studies have confirmed.

Researchers found that any terminal where buses begin and end journeys inevitably, for reasons unknown, devolved into a post-apocalyptic Mad Max environment where the weak are prey for the strong and the 87 to Eyres Monsell never comes.

Professor Henry Brubaker, of the Institute for Studies, said: “Our findings won’t come as a surprise to any unfortunate souls who’ve found themselves in these shanties of the damned. McDonald’s after 11pm comes a notable second.

“All of the signs are wrong, there’s bird shit everywhere, every horizontal surface is covered in spikes and the reek of piss is ever-present. They’re not so much vital parts of the public transport infrastructure as a preview of the nightmare to come.

“Pity anyone forced to use them on a daily basis. Herds of depressed commuters, all who know they’re only one wrong glance away from a riot kicking off? Protected only by their earbuds and their indifference? A grimy, vaping hell.

“The only way to escape these ghettos is to make a cursed deal with the sullen-faced wardens who despise them the most: bus drivers.”

Regular bus traveller Martin Bishop said: “Bus stations aren’t that bad. If you know a better place to buy 15 kilos of dog hair for two teeth, I’d like to hear it.”

The Daily Mash

Of course.

¡Empieza la cuenta atrás para nuestras vacaciones!

Just a few more days...

Yep. Monday again. Work again. It's still miserable, grey and dank out there, with more rain on the horizon (particularly tomorrow).

However, the countdown has begun - just five days to go, and we're off to Spain on Saturday! Can't wait...

Meanwhile, on this Tacky Music Monday, here's an old fave - our Patron Saint of Histrionics Señorita Rocío Jurado!

As I said last time I posted it:

With a plethora of safety gays and girls who look like drag queens [I'm sure I spotted a youthful Dame Hilda Bracket in there somewhere], bizarre costume changes, piss-poor miming and a duettist who looks like Ron Burgundy sans moustache - this is just perfect!

It remains so:

Rocio Jurado - medley

Have a good week, dear reader.