Daughter and I set off in search of vino, tapas, groceries. And fun.
First port of call involved not tapas, but sushi. As it happened, the only Japanese restaurant in the village was hosting a small wedding.
We gate crashed.
The bride and groom were somewhat perplexed to pose for two complete strangers, but happy to oblige. Are they not delightful?
The sushi was good too.
We then wandered off in search of further entertainment. Sticking our noses into dozens of watering holes. Been there, done that. Dull.
In desperation we found a Spanish bodigo with a charming outside courtyard. We were the only customers. We talked. And talked. And talked. We laughed a lot.
I have promised to spend the next months, how ever long it takes, writing a family history for her. Her grandparents, me, her father (my ex), our marriage that was, and so on. JD was three when we divorced.
I asked her if she really, really wants to know. Yes, she says. And I believe her. I will do it, warts and all.
She took a photograph. Of ME! There are few photographs of me in recent years. I am always behind the camera. Mostly the quiet observer. Here it is. (This is brave of me – I seldom post personal pics – mostly because there aren’t any!)
Happiness is a choice and it takes effort. I am blessed.
We didn’t forget the groceries. Racing around the supermarket in record time, giggling as we went.
‘Gather yea rosebuds whilst yea may?’