The last time TLF took two consecutive weeks holiday from work (more commonly known as a fortnight off so I am reliably told) John Major was Prime Minister, there was no such thing as Facebook (more of THAT anon) and the Spice Girls were the next big thing. How the last two decades have swung by without this phenomenon occurring TLF is not entirely sure. Workaholic? (hardly). Irreplaceable? (only in my dreams). Control freak? (definitely possible). OR just not very organised.
Strangely after twenty years it hasn’t proved that hard to get into the swing of not doing any work for a whole TEN days. More challenging is the absence of live football, with the Barca-Juve game on a big screen at a tapas bar with a big screen, that I might have engineered a visit to, not really counting. Although the cheap booze, fantastic food and 37 degree temperature helped ease TLF’s FFZ pain. (And of course Mr TLF’s company…just in case he reads this). Well that and the suitably entertaining Mighty Saints match updates from Julie and Davy Mac, made all the sweeter by the fact that it was clearly raining cats and dogs of ginormous proportions, for most of the games TLF missed.
Seville I hear you say? Indeed, the TLFs were back where the rain stays mainly on the plain, not on account of some weirdo pilgrimage back to the last place Claudio Ranieri managed Lesta City, but because we were pretty sure there was more to see.
And the largest city in the autonomous community of Andalusia (FACT!) did not let the TLFs down, with a whole smorgasbord of tapas bars, pretty streets and architecture, that were previously undiscovered; and all because they were a right turn out of February’s hotel not a left. I don’t like to mangle a poet but two roads make all the difference.
I could get used to this holiday lark.
EVF (En vacances Fox)