The Wrecking Crew

There is a disturbing trend amongst my friends and acquaintances to entice me into acts of hard, physical labour. Preferably in the hot weather. Why they do this I will never understand. There could be no worse candidate for your handy handyman than myself and it ought to be generally understood that warm weather is an excuse for loafing around and drinking cold beer, not for bashing things with hammers, drilling holes in bits of wood and generally being active and sweaty.

I was horrified when Lord Mac advised me that I had volunteered (when?) to help him clear and demolish a couple of sheds in his aunty's back garden and also help him clear out the house next door.

Here is General Lord Mac addressing his troops; "Now then chaps, all we have to do is knock these sheds down and dump 'em in the skip. Tally Ho!" What you can not see is that the entire workforce consists of the Fatboy who is now trying his best to hide behind a shrub. Personally, I would have engaged a couple of stalwart Eastern European labourers rather than Mr Useless of E17.

This is the skip. Notice how the skip is round the front of the house whereas the sheds are round the back. Yes, all the debris will have to be packed into wheelie bins and dragged round. But by whom?

We had cleared the contents of the first shed so all we had to do was set to and attack the structure with sweat, hammers and crowbar.

Here's the General setting a fine example with a few hearty blows of the wrecking hammer. Give it some welly! He later retired to further consider his plans, as Generals do.

Making a good start. There was so much stuff in those sheds. Notice the wheelie bin loaded up and ready to be dragged round to the skip. Where's the Fatboy? Nowhere to be seen.

Coming along nicely. The second shed is reduced to matchwood by the Fatboy as the General takes tea with his aunties.

All down and all done. Now, just clear it all up and bung it in the skip.

Oh dear, oh dearie me. We are clearly not very happy. The Fatboy has topped up his suntan today but destroyed himself in the process. Done his knee in, pulled a muscle in his back but mainly just in catatonic shock at having to do a day's physical work.

And the General's in little better shape. No major damage sustained due to deliberate skiving but could that be a nasty banging-too-hard-with-the-hammer injury to the wrist? Definate week off there. Not that he can have it as the General needs to plan the next phase of the campaign.

And that is clearing out the house which is full of curious and unusual artifacts, like clocks. Loads of clocks. Hundreds of clocks.

A small part of the great mantle clocks collection. Don't ask.

Camins al Vent

I have often admired these curious chimney-like objects on the platform at the Valencia airport Metro station. But I do not know what they are or what they do, I just know that I like them.

I had to find out. There is a plaque on a nearby wall and they are called "Camins al Vent" by Enrique Sanisidro. I don't do Valencian but "Camins" must be the same word as the Spanish "Camino" which is well known and "Vent" has to be wind so I went to a Catalan-to-English translation website (I never found a Valencian one but reckoned that Catalan is close enough), typed it in and it came up with "Pathways of the Wind" which I think must be about right.

Enrique Sanisidro is a well established and respected Valencian artist, celebrated for his ceramic murals. I am sure that he will be pleased to learn that he can count me in as a new fan. And he is a local chap with his studio at Manises. Nice muriels, Enrique! See some of his other work here, www.enrique-sanisidro.com

But what do they do? What are they there for? There is a web link included on that plaque, www.elsfumeralsdemanises.com. Much good it is as all you get is the good old "No se encuentra la pagina" message. Bugger! Now, "elsfumeralsdemanises" is clearly "Els Fumerals de Manises". The airport is in the district of Manises and what on earth is a fumeral?  Last I heard, it was a volcanic phenomenon; a hole in the ground which releases hot gases. So I googled it and yes, in Valencian, the word "fumeral" is used to refer to a tall chimney (with hot gases gushing forth!) Indeed, there is a learned society dedicated to the study of Els Fumerals. Just in case you were wondering, chimney in Catalan is "xemeneia".

So, there we are. They have got something to do with chimneys and they're done by this Valencian artist geezer. That's really all you need to know. "Mind the Doors!!"

Visit to Denia Castle

The castle and its plantation of trees is the constant backdrop to Denia. So much so that you take it for granted and never get to visit, I have often asked myself just what was up there. But you had better step lively should you want to visit as these chances are rare. I was lucky and blagged a space with the Old Farts chapter of the Benimeli Brits in Spain Society who were visiting with their illustrious el profesor Antonio who would be our guide for the morning.

Meeting in the car park near Mercadona.

Through the tunnel. Used as a shelter during the civil war. 

Never get a chance to take photographs, always being hurried along. Come along!

And gathering at the other end of the tunnel.

Las Devoradoras de Cultura. Nothing gets past this lot; "Going to the foot tapping in August?", " Nah, I'm parading me sardines." "Nice."

Follow me and we're off. Antonio takes a bold lead.

First view of the church; there will be several of these all taken from different vantage points. 

When in doubt; follow the signs.

Windy streets

And so, up the steps and up the hill to the castle entrance. Here is a street sign encountered on the way.

Entrance to the castle.

View from the ramparts over the town.

Houses built against the castle walls.

Roofs of houses near the castle walls.

Detail of roof tiles.

View of the church.

View of the square from the castle walls.

View of the church.

Up top; overlooking the port.

El Profeesore and his missus up the top.

Antonio and Elena photographed overlooking the port.

Yet more posing for pictures; getting ready for the group shot. Look at the glamour girls in the sunglasses, you must admire their languid poise. SPJ (not wanting to be thought lacking in poise) gets her sunglasses on pronto.

View over the port. Balearia ferry on the Ibiza and Palma route.

Enough sightseeing; now for some history. Loved to have seen some old photographs of Denia, there is a bar in the Marques de Campo with some on the walls but this would be an ideal spot for a municipal collection. Roman amphorae on the walls.

Examining the exhibits at the Museu Arqueologic de la Ciutat de Denia. I could not help but notice that they have painted their exhibition hall the same colour as my downstairs lavatory at home. I wonder if they used Farrow & Ball's "Entrance Hall Pink" as I did or whether the department of works at the Ajuntament de Denia has a standard paint for daubing on museum walls.

Here´s the fat boy resplendent in his magnificent hibiscus print floral shorts. Notice the regal bearing and the thighs like Bavarian bullocks. Unusual formation to the front of the shorts, surely. Something amiss in the trouser department, Fatboy?

Silly old bugger; he's as happy as can be. Visiting old buildings and museums, flaffing around and taking photographs. Spain is full of them; you would think that he had had enough by now. You would be wrong; he can do this all day and every day and frequently does.

Town square

Church from bastion

Sign for the Porta de la Vila.

The actual Porta itself. Old door.

Meeting for drinks. Bald patch Jose Andres kindly donated by El professore, gawd bless 'im.

Graffitti at school.

Fly Until You Flag

Hardly anyone has a good word to say for Ryanair. Except for me; I think it is a fantastic airline. No frills, no fuss. Dirt cheap and reliable. None of this daft pretenious nonsense that you get with other airlines.