Deepest apologies for not having posted for so long. I have been travelling a fair bit in the last few months. First was Malaga.
It's always good to have a bit of minor medical drama while on holiday - something to talk about during the slide show evenings back home - and, so, I broke my tooth on a hidden chicken bone in the best paella I've ever eaten, on a beach just outside Malaga.
It was a Sunday and, with a mouth full of a traumatically indistinguishable mix of bone and tooth, I started to panic but, this being Spain with a wonderful health service, my equally wonderful brother-in-law was able to make a couple of phone calls and, within an hour, have me sitting in a dentist's chair having my dental defences repaired while listening to Queen (the - German, as it turned out - dentist's favourite band because, she claimed, Freddie Mercury trained to be a dentist before becoming an operatic rock Mary. Which in terms of 'physician heal thyself'-style professional neglect, would be akin to Hank Marvin turning out to have been an optician. I'm rambling now, aren't I?).
Anyway, here is the culprit:
More happily, we got to stay at my sister's olive farm, and try her delicious olive oil (you can rent the house, by the way - an hour north of Malaga. Email me for details!)
Promised to mention, it has a pool. And fig trees. And prickly pears. And walnuts.
And, more importantly, it's within striking distance of the amazing beach-front seafood restaurants east of Malaga:
The Malaganese (is that a word?) are masters of charcoal grilling and deep frying, which makes me wonder if there is some long forgotten trade route from southern Spain to Japan...
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