Lunch on the Veranda

This is one of those houses that has a front which is seemingly never used. There are steps up to a veranda covering a front door but nobody ever comes in that way because the drive goes straight past it to the deck and door at the rear of the house. To be completely accurate, it looks as though some house martins, noticing that they would be utterly undisturbed by human activity, have successfully used the veranda as a nesting site; two mud nests still adhere to the inside of it.

When our expected wine delivery turned up yesterday it did so at the back door. The delivery man very kindly carried the case of wine up and placed it upon the table on the deck. The table must be suffering from a severe attack of age because the main support had broken under the weight of the wine. This went unnoticed until I carried the wine through into the house.

After a mild expletive, Mr. Fixit thought he’d have a go at finding some wood glue and repairing it. What a helpful chap. Any excuse to rummage around in a hardware store in a foreign country; I find them fascinating because all the products are so different. It was a shopping day anyway so we diverted for a rummage through a suitable hardware store on the way to our favoured food shop.

Our view from the veranda One of our favourite pastimes in Spain is lunch on a shady veranda. (The Spaniards have a good name for the veranda but I can only say it – I can’t spell it.)  The unused veranda here had been calling to us so we had swept it and rearranged some furniture it to bring it into operation. It’s crying out for a rocking chair, a corn-cob pipe and a Jack Daniels. We made do with some utterly dreadful American beer (I’ll buy the good stuff next time), pitta bread, crudités and humus with a few tasty olives for good measure. Sitting back and watching the world go by really was quite relaxing.

Mr Fixit had a go at the inebriated table. We’ll leave it overnight and see if it is still holding together in the morning.

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