Day 24, 27th Jan – Easy like Sunday Morning…

Well, easy like everything really, with G&L, they do unhurried cheer to an Olympic standard and then when it’s time to kick into action, then “Boing!” they’re up and ready.

So we went from:

“Oh yeah, look at the time…” to “Right then, I’ll turn the car round and we’ll be off!”

Which we did, because this was the ‘look, see” day.  Three hours of sight-seeing-with-a-purpose followed by a late lunch at the locally famous ‘Maria’s’ restaurant in the village.  

Up hill, and down olive and almond-blossom sprinkled dale.  Weaving around the faces of the mountain in ever-tighter hairpin turns. I gaze through the car windows, wondering at the terraces, neat, maintained, industrious, for mile after mile.  

There’s a small cassitta (cottage) in Pinos village, you can almost see it from G&L’s terrace.  It’s rented now but they’re looking to sell.  Comes with different options in terms of land available.  Beguiling, authentic, terracotta-tiled with an open fire. A homestead of whitewashed loveliness.

We move on. “Se Vende” appears form time to time. But more importantly, we get the feel for this corner of the world that our hosts love dearly.  They are evangelical, proud, and still bewitched. It’s not hard to see why.

At Maria’s Restaurant, we’re served by a weary but charming son of Maria, who corrects (instead of wincing at) my Spanish, followed up by Gary who explains my error.  We chomp and chatter as fellow Brits turn up to say hello.  

Chris and Chrissy, who first dated as teenagers and then thirty plus years later finally rediscovered each other and have been inseparable since.  

Gareth (renting “my” cassita in the village) who’s been to the medieval market that we didn’t make, there being too much catching up with G&L to do.  Gareth smiles warmly and says that he’ll happily help up house-hunt in the next town down the mountain, he loves his current location.  

On our way out after an endless set of tasty delights, we’re called in by Jo, another Pinos resident and part time journalist for the local Bendorm Paper. She insists that we meet her dogs and see the new sofa.  

For each conversation of: ”How long?  Why? and Was this the right decision?” we learn not only of personal histories but what made a move successful, and the reasons for that fearless leap.  Each person we quiz states firmly and cheerfully that this was the best thing they’ve ever done.

There was a lot of wobble juice.  I turned out to be the only person drinking red wine until Gareth came along and he felt bad about drinking mine, so insisted I help him finish off his additional bottle.  Bottles of white and rose came to the table along with beer.  Then Jo had wine, which was supplemented by further supplies.  

So, it was a woozy pair of Wilsons that unsteadily wobbled their way to the van last night.  

Brain-full, I stood and looked up at the velvet night, pinpricked with shards of brilliance.  I wonder, I wonder…

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