Three days to go until we load the car and head to Portsmouth to catch the ferry to Santander. Alas, our cellar has run dry and we were forced to spend a small fortune today in the supermarket for some bottles of wine.
Daughter is unexpectedly coming for Sunday lunch tomorrow. Roast dinner is not on the menu as I cleaned the oven this morning and refuse to spoil its shiny, sparkling interior. Instead I shall prepare a sumptuous stove top coq au vin. Paul says that chicken stew is not a good substitute for roast dinner.
As per usual I have packed far too early and the flat is now in disarray with half empty suitcases and bags that I keep tripping over. I have vacuum packed (great fun with plastic bags and the hoover nozzle) most of the clothes to save room in the car. Paul has just been out to buy a second warning triangle for the car, apparently Spanish law requires two instead of one if you break down. I don’t know if that applies to donkeys.
|vacuum packed clothes|
The weather forecast is looking good for our mini cruise across the Bay of Biscay down to Santander. We are planning to crack open a pre-packed bottle of Prosecco once we get into our deluxe cabin. Hopefully we won’t need to take the Kwells (sea-sickness pills) otherwise I shall spend the whole voyage in a comatose state.
We tried one of the supermarket wines with lunch today. Paul has an app on his ‘phone which tells you all about the wine when you scan in the barcode. The ‘phone told us that the Carta Roja was a very good value wine.
“Where’s it from?”
“Sainsburys, you were with me when we bought it.”
“Noooo, which country does it come from?”
For some reason this silly little conversation made us giggle like a couple of school kids. I blame the wine.
|Puedo tener más sangría por favor?|