KKK V AKA

In the lead up to Easter I found myself doing something I never do at home which is watch Spanish tele. Time spent having a coffee or vermouth in a bar here is always with a TV or two playing different channels, a couple of slot machines with sound effects, music blaring out and all this being matched by men and women with gobs on them arguing over the football. I looked up at one point and saw the Copa del Rey as it is now known in English, being dropped from  the top of a double decker bus in Madrid and run over. About half a dozen firemen rushed to its rescue, gave it a quick lick, a few knocks back into shape and handed it to the bus driver. Nevertheless, I'm feeling 'cada vez mas', or more and more estranged from the culture back home what with the impending wedding an' all. In contrast to what is going on there I find myself here, fleeing the pointy hat brigade and propping up the bar with four old gaffers watching Bob Esponja or Spongebob Squarepants as he is known in the western world. It was Spongebob that raised the alarm so we went off to Casa Frauca, the best restaurant in this valley, where we ate chiretas, a type of Aragonese haggis, shanks of lamb, chocolate bizcochos and apple dessert and drank a newly discovered wine called Lalanne and still had change to carry on.