Sunday, 12 June 2011
What children think about but don't let on.
The town is heaving with people from Zaragoza (all here to see the Holy Ghost on Monday, I suppose). The covertible red sports cars driven by long forgotten film stars and filled with cloudy blondes are roaring to a halt at the traffic lights. The ladies of the night (actually ladies of the town's nearest laybys...oh, that's why they are called that?) are sipping coffee at the bar by the post office. The streets are a riot of T-shirts and flip-flops. This is my cue to disappear.
Oh...and now it seems I cannot send emails....