The Bombing
Blah, blah blah.
Nice to see Rita Moreno, the Mayor with her entourage.
The Burning
Blah blah blah
There's no much action until it gets dark so we had to adjourn to a bar for a light tisane and indulge in that honourable Valencian custom of sitting with a drink and watching the world go by.
The Nutters were out in force. Much too nutty for us, we are staid, sensible Brits so we retired to a convenient location for some light refreshment.
Oh, just a cheese sandwich for me, please. Nothing fancy. Several bottles later we emerged to catch the action
All presided over by the Virgin and Sweet Baby Jesus.
Religious significance? Don't ask us, chico. We're Moors. Cristos! Pah! Moors the pity; I'll tell Sweet Baby Jesus.
The whole place went mental with hardly a word of sense to be had from anyone. Quite extraordinary; an entire city given over to nutters. Reminds me of home.
Final call down to Jerusalem, that den of cut-throats and purse-snatchers for a final few drinkies and a swift bit of unplanned for purse-snatching.
Lovely lights; shame about the light fingers.
Burn, Baby. Burn. I think that there must be a pyromaniac inside us all. So satisfying to watch the flames.
All presided over by the Virgin and Sweet Baby Jesus.
Religious significance? Don't ask us, chico. We're Moors. Cristos! Pah! Moors the pity; I'll tell Sweet Baby Jesus.
The whole place went mental with hardly a word of sense to be had from anyone. Quite extraordinary; an entire city given over to nutters. Reminds me of home.
Final call down to Jerusalem, that den of cut-throats and purse-snatchers for a final few drinkies and a swift bit of unplanned for purse-snatching.
Lovely lights; shame about the light fingers.
Burn, Baby. Burn. I think that there must be a pyromaniac inside us all. So satisfying to watch the flames.
No comments:
Post a Comment