Torremolinos was going quite well. A bottle of rioja and tapas and some craft beer in a “British Pub”, and the landmarks of the world created in sand.
That said, the beach didn’t look that inviting,
so we stuck to the coastal path and headed back in search of a craft beer pub that looked dead to the world.
Which was a shame, as Mrs RM needed the loo. So Brit Pub 2, the sequel it was.
Look at the beer range and never complain about Craft Union again.
The Ship seemed to function entirely for the benefit of ex-pats, which is fine, and I’m sure they loved the soundtrack of “Jumping Jack Flash” and “Crazy, Crazy Nights” as much as Mrs RM did.
You don’t hear enough Kiss in UK pubs, or later Mike Oldfield, which alone proves the existence of the Ship has meaning.
Only 1.50 euros your San Miguel in a Carling glass. Eat your heart out Tim Martin.
The fizzy lager gave us heart for the steep climb back to the station,
Honestly, isn’t it lovely ?
Once I’ve finished the GBG, I may get Mrs RM to come and retire here. But it’ll probably still be warmer in Sheffield due to global warming.