Monday 29th August 2011

Monday 29th August 2011

We made our one and only trip out of town as we caught the coach to Santa Polo. To Jan’s approval, it stopped next to the town’s Monday market. Amidst the clothing stalls (with the most common item predictably being a Barcelona ‘Messi’ top) we held the boys interest with a selection of the potpourri of sweets on offer. A replacement pair of sunglasses was on sale for five euros. Did I barter, hold my nerve before reaching a satisfyingly lower price to pay? Nope, I handed over a five euro note.

We wandered to the local beach but the sand was too mortar grey for Jan’s tastes. Over coffee in a beach facing café that contained (to Sam’s delight) an in house budgie, Jan expressed withering disdain for what the place had to offer. The café manager pointed us to the centre and the place eventually unfurled a bit more attractively. At a pavement café, we had a pizza which was a little oily on top. We sought to visit the town’s aquarium but found it to be closed between 1 & 6 (perhaps the fish needed longer siestas). Weighed down by the pizza, we made a fraught run for the bus back to GA before the buses themselves took their own afternoon break for the day. The coach was fortuitously late. Hot and bothered, Sam wriggled and raged on board and we were glad to be dropped off at the unshadowed, hot and humid Gran Alicante for the less wearing ten minute walk back.

Tuesday 30th August 2011

I went with Sam to the GA Centre and took in one final impression of the town. It is a modern, computer designed centre, looking like one of those proposed town planner’s sketches made real. There would be no aromas, street entertainers or cavernous drinking dens here. Amidst the prosperous looking shops sticking out like a sore thumb was one with beach gear stacked high outside offering inflatables, buckets and spades to the brash seaside crew. This place, at least, offered the people what they may want; the shops were generally empty, and a month on brings sad news of the closure of the centre’s off license, tapas bar, boutique and butcher’s shop. The blame can't be laid at our door – unlike Saturday night’s restaurant neither Jan or I set foot in any of these establishments.

I bought some groceries, had a drink, withdrew some money then took the road train back. As it went on its longer loop journey home Spanish pop music was played (which is bearable – I would happily listen to Spanish pop if I lived in sunnier climes). Between songs, there would be occasional voice overs highlighting a place where we were approaching. The odd British bar was advertised with the backing brass theme of Coronation Street which sounded inappropriately melancholy in this most un Salford of weather.

Wednesday 31st August 2011

There were storms overnight which sent the air conditioning and other electricity teetering on the brink. The swimming pool security system broke down and the entrance was wrenched open for the day.

After last night’s downpour, there was, by now, a lot of water on the top of the outdoor canopy. Sylvester, the man with the ladder, had remained elusive. However, perhaps reinvigorated by the fresh air that followed a storm, we felt able to tackle this problem again. I put a towel on a wet window ledge, stood on it and, with the pole hook, was able to direct the looping rope downwards. We were able to haul back the canopy, pouring last night’s rain collection on the tiles below with a splat. It was a relief to have this problem out of the way. No payment to the owners required for damages (the offer to pay for a replacement egg up was waved off).