AS Shane MacGowan once so poetically sang – actually he probably sang it hundreds of times – Come all you rambling boys of pleasure, and ladies of easy leisure, we must say adios until we see Almeria once again . . .
I have no desire to visit Almeria, despite the fact it lies only a couple of hundred kilometres along the indented coastline, but the Pogues’ exquisitely vivacious song Fiesta encapsulates exactly what it says on the record label. It remains one of my all-time favourites.
This weekend the Andalucian town of Orgiva celebrates its annual fiesta. We ramble about the streets, with more than a touch of flamenco in our steps, and soak up the atmosphere. All the sounds and smells of the fair fill the evening air, including the unmistakeable earthy, dungy smell of horse.
It’s an energetic and noisy evening. Even the town’s three-legged dog is out late, enjoying the celebrations. And me – one good foot’s tapping to flamenco, the other to the Pogues.
Back to house-hunting tomorrow. This is an exercise that’s getting increasingly depressing. But tonight is party night. Strum that guitar and click those castanets. It’s time to dance. Take it away Shane . . .