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Well, what a busy few weeks we've had. Despite the fact that Dave, our 'talent', is now rather petulantly whining on and on about having one of those chairs with his name on the back and is constantly bleating on about the lack of a 'chuck wagon', without which he claims to be unable to perform. Apparently in his previous career (at Ealing Film Studios where he was head of hats, coats and scarves, constantly on double bubble and still went home at lunchtime), the chuck wagon groaned under the weight of steak and kidney puddings, apple crumble and good strong cups of builders' tea. He is very sniffy about our offer of a battered can of coke and a dishevelled biscuit.
Unfortunately (particularly for Brian) my cash card stopped working in February as I had failed to notice that it expired at the end of January before we left. So he is experiencing a sense of déjà vu. And a very empty wallet.
He didn't realise the 'and poorer' bit of the marriage ceremony would be upon him quite so soon.
We have been out to the estancia again and on the way back we visited the racehorse, Amarilla Cat, which Dave owns together with 4 other people. Dave owns the tail. Or is it the nose? Whatever, he looks a fine beast. The horse that is, not Dave.
We got back to Buenos Aires in the evening with just enough time to unpack and repack for our flight to Cordoba the next day. It was getting late when we got back so we threw our stuff on the floor and headed straight out to eat. Just as we got to the restaurant big fat drops of rain started to land all around us. 'Lucky escape' we thought, smugly, as we pushed open the door and chose a cosy little table by the window.
Outside the rain fell faster and stronger until, within just a few minutes, it was torrential. The rain poured down so fast that the drains quickly became unable to cope with the quantity of water and the street became a fast flowing river - people were running past soaked through. After half an hour the rain still wasn't letting up and the streets were now quiet, devoid of cars and people, and our little warm snug in a bug feeling started to evaporate as the realisation dawned that not only was the weather worsening but that we had left all our stuff, including the camera, on the floor of our not very rain-worthy house. And right in the middle of the house is a drain (no idea why), which, when the rain falls this heavily, works in the opposite way in which it is supposed to - i.e. the water comes up and out instead of down and in.
Our food was delayed from the kitchen, so all we could do was sit and wonder, and wait, and worry. And glance at our watches and then the kitchen door from time to time in the international sign language of 'where's my bloody food?' Finally it arrived and we wolfed it down debating whether or not there was an iota of difference in the intensity of the deluge (there wasn't) and swiftly paid the bill (well, Bri did, obviously, as he is now designated trip banker). Then we skedaddled the 4 blocks back to our house, hurdling puddles and at times wading through water that was about a foot deep, trying to avoid unexpected downpours from broken gutters.
We got home to discover that most things were still, amazingly, dry. Although we didn't have any electricity until the morning so we had to go to bed and read by candlelight. It was all very Charles Dickens. Or should that be Carlos Ricardos?
We left for Cordoba the next morning, a short one and a half hour flight. It's Argentina's second biggest city, but not terribly exciting. Our hotel though is lovely, a newly converted Jesuit monastery, with lots of big squishy sofas, old brick walls, glass and steel right in the centre of town. But Brian is most impressed by the large plasma flat screen television that dominates one wall of our stylish hotel room. Without pausing to unpack or check the complimentary toiletries selection in the vast en suite bathroom he runs his hands admiringly over it's sleek surface before reaching for the remote control and starts feverishly flicking through the two hundred odd channels desperately searching for the Tottenham game. He finds the right channel and, breathing a large sigh of relief, launches himself backwards onto the king size bed, pausing only to grab a handful of pillows and stuff them behind his head. 'Darling, can you just move out of the way of the ….GOAL!' And he's up off the bed doing a little football dance. 'Great place darling' he murmurs. 'You sure know how to pick em.' Don't I just.
- comments
Eric Redford 5 stars for me. Does the race-horse win sometimes?
Gary Beecroft Brian Great news about the telly. There's some good action on the Winter Olympics at the moment. We even won a medal in the sledging. Gary
Ellen well sounds like your having fun!! with out me:( i cant belive brains watching football when your in a beautiful country crazy hehe :) see you soon