We left Almagro with our souvenir water colours safely packed away. We don’t buy souvenirs any more because inevitably we get them home and wonder why? Most impulse purchases get thrown away but we do still have the water colours.
My grandparents first went to Spain for a holiday in 1960 or thereabouts. They brought back exotic stories of exciting overseas adventures and suitcases full of unusual mementos, castanets, replica flamenco dancing girls, handsome matador dolls with flaming scarlet capes and velour covered bulls that decorated their living room and collected dust for the next twenty years or so.
This is their story…
What is the worst souvenir that you have ever brought home?
Sunday was the day of the bullfight and when we went for breakfast the final hectic preparations were in full swing. Mickey saw the bulls arriving early in the morning and in the Plaza red and gold bunting, the colour of the Spanish flag, was being hung from the balconies surrounding the arena. There was a real buzz of expectancy about the place now and it was a real shame that we wouldn’t be there to experience it.
It rained very heavily in the night and the hotel’s internal courtyard was awash with water but by breakfast time the sky had cleared and the sky was blue so it looked as though we may be in for a better day. The Goya was closed this morning so we had exactly the same breakfast at the Bar Plaza instead and debated our itinerary for the day and agreed that today on account of the unpredictable weather that we should drive to the capital of Andalusia, Seville.