This morning’s post comes to you from historic Antequera Station, by common consensus the dullest in Spain. No cafe, no vending machine, nothing. The Oxenholme for the Lake District of the South, perhaps.
There’s so much to see in Malaga Old Town, particularly in the religious shops. Or above it, as here.
And the smell of jasmine and colour of the orange trees is a joy.
But obviously we’d come to Malaga for the beach.
Which is why the weather was a bit disappointing. Apparently there’s been a heatwave to go with the Bass in the Jolly Sailor. It won’t last.
We strolled the modernised pier and were attracted to the smell of a beachside barbecue. Even “New’ Macclesfield can’t offer that.
Fresh salty sardines at 5 euros a plate, San Miguel or sangria 2 euros 50. “This is the life“, thought Mrs RM. “I could have been ticking GBG pubs in Merthyr” thought I.
Foreign lager tastes better in foreign countries doesn’t it ? Is there a national San Miguel day ? Does a guy called Ian from Toledo campaign for it to be served flat ?
The appropriate song to bring you for what was left on our plates is a bit obscure today.
Oh yes, we were just in time. They were packing away the plastic seats and dousing the fire by 16:00. Micropubs haven’t even opened by then.