Thursday 1st September 2011

I found the Gran Alicante market this morning after talking to a couple in L’Espigo who had, in their possession, a bag of bulbous grapes. Unlike Monday’s market, this had stalls of spruce local fresh fruit and vegetables. I bought some freshly pressed orange juice (none for Sam who’s bot is still heeling). There was a stall with those staples of Spanish markets – car stickers of UK football shirted donned shaven head rascals peeing on a rival team’s football shirt. I found myself looking for my team as if I was going to boorishly put one on our car back home. Amidst the stalls, there were some beggars, if that’s the right word – middle aged ladies, heads bowed with a notice asking for help for a hospital operation that they haven’t got money for. They were hardly in rags but as our tourist books advised us the Spanish are a proud people.

We went to the Municipal park, then went back to the house. Later, I was to go back up the hill to a cashpoint machine in the sweltering midday heat when we realised that we didn’t have enough money to pay for the cleaner and taxi fare. I waved to the staff at L’Espigo for the last time. We had an early meal and set about packing everything for the flight tomorrow.

Friday 2nd September 2011


The remainder of our bags were packed and loaded by the door. I took the recycling to the road lined skips. Jan cleaned the house then left £30 Euros for the cleaner which, after the extensive clean already done, looks nice work if you can get it.

On the plane back, we entered some clouds where a storm was brewing up. The plane dropped somewhat to audible gasps. Ed was unphased; Sam carried on lobbing books. Back in Manchester, we got the taxi to our house. When we got out the car, the penny dropped for Ed and he burst in to tears. ‘Go to Spain’, he said.