Pineda part deux: More parrots, less brain cells

Look, Breakfast doesn't happen. Breakfast occurs rarely enough at home (I'm a lunchtime riser, to be honest) and it only happens abroad on departure day if I have managed to pack in time. Breakfast certainly didn't happen the Friday before last, largely because I didn't get up until gone 2pm. The boiling Costa Bravan sun shone threateningly through the open patio doors from the balcony, where Steve sat drinking KAS limon. We discussed lunch. We were both famished. I showered, dressed and we made our way to the lift. Being on the fifth floor was both a blessing and a curse. On the one hand it was gloriously quiet. On the other, waiting for the elevator was something of a chore. The lift at the Aqua' is worth the wait though, being as it is made of glass and ascends/descends the front of the hotel. This means it is very easy for a man as childish as myself to think it is a good idea to stand facing outwards with arms crossed and legs apart, rather like Yul Brynner in "The King And I". In this way (I imagined) people would marvel as their god descended and I would be met with supplication as I glided to the ground floor. I kept it up all week. I was completely ignored. I never saw whether Steve was rolling his eyes or not - he was never in my line of vision.

Imagine this man in an Hawaiian shirt, combat shorts and sandals, with a beard, sunglasses and a short quiff , standing in a lift and, well, you get the idea...

We headed left out of the hotel in search of a Can Josep style Menu Del Dia. We found a restaurant that shall remain nameless. It was very busy (Always a good sign) and we chose to eat in the air-conditioned  inside. Admittedly, the following was all for eleven euros but we had: Gazpacho soup (in a tumbler), a particularly onion-y salad, a plate of indiscriminate meat stew, an omelette and a creme caramel, agua con gas and a cortado. My conclusion was that soup should not come in a glass, salads should not be over-onioned, I like to know exactly what sort of animal I am devouring and omelettes should not be on Spanish menus - not even Spanish ones. It was no Can Josep. We walked in a diagonal line back towards the hotel, missed it entirely and ended up joining an already inebriated Titch, Lexy, Jason, Hugh, Koefte and Steve (another one) for a drink in an Irish bar on the front. It very quickly became an exercise in shots, guinness, more shots, lager and danger. Titch spoke to Steve about him playing Sax for Titch's band Klingonz. he's mad keen for Steve to play sax for them on their new album. The only problem is that Steve doesn't play sax. he doesn't play any musical instruments. Titch refuses to believe this and thinks that collectively we are all on a wind up to stop him getting Steve's amazing sax playing talents onto his new album. Steve can now say to people that he is "The sax player with Klingonz". When people say "But Klingonz don't have a sax player" he can say simply, "Exactly"

This is Titch - to be fair, he doesn't always look like this - sometimes he doesn't wear flip flops.

Titch & Lexy had managed to screw up their airport transfer far more than we had. From what I can gather it involved two bottles of spirits, being evicted from a shuttle bus (twice) for putting their bags in the wrong place and a 120 euro cab ride. Oh he was sick as well, bless him. We left them far later than we should have done, ate late and decided to have a quick beer on the way up to the festival. We hit upon a bar with only one group of people in it, thinking "This won't take long". It became apparent that the proprietress (Janet) had been let down by her waiters so was doing everything.  While Steve was in the bathroom I mentioned to her that he ran a bar himself. Within seconds she had roped him in to pull a shift. For the next two hours or so he waited tables, poured drinks and entertained the customers (A table of (mainly) Irish girls) so Janet could concentrate on the food. We had three half-litres of sangria. She gave us one of them free by way of thanks. I considered this a result. I'd done knack all and still got a free drink. I love hanging around with Steve.

We didn't get to the gig until gone midnight. I can't remember anything about it anyway to be quite honest but here are a couple of photos to suggest I had fun...

Day two on the parrots and I need a couple of hot chicks to calm down my obvious aggression...

That's better

Long Tall Texans closed the show and were absolutely brilliant. I'm afraid the Sangria put paid to any other significant memories.