Christmas

Between the many enjoyable traditional Christmas days I have had, I have also had some less traditional ones.
Eating birthday cake and singing Happy Birthday to Jesus, accompanied by a man playing ommpar music on a keyboard, in India; stands out.  As does cupping a large brandy whilst floating in a roof top swimming pool in Dubai.  Lying in an isolation ward on a quinine drip groaning with malaria was less enjoyable.
This Christmas in Spain, though very enjoyable, weirdly has not felt that different. A couple of beers in the Welcome bar whilst we skyped the UK, then Paella and Christmas pud for dinner, the Queens speech and Doctor Who, had enough elements of a traditional day as well as few different ones.  All with a background 17 degrees, which was lovely.
We thought we would buy a UK paper for Christmas, the tabloids didn't appeal and the only broadsheet was the Saturday Telegraph, with a fine Christmas quiz.  As Cat bought it, the shop owner said: “Bit posh isn't it?" Cat replied, slightly shocked "We are getting it for the quiz" To which he replied, "You must be posh if you can do that quiz" There are so many elements to that comment, all I will say is we didn't do too well in the quiz.  Some mans posh is another man’s newspaper.
Imagine if there had been a Guardian....
We visited the local town of Torreveija and went to see the nativity.  Most Spanish towns have a large model which has scenes from the Christmas story.  This one was excellent and Hazel enjoyed the moving swings, the chickens, the man falling down the stairs and a man having a poo behind a bush!!  Yes that’s right.
Some time ago some model making cad in Barcelona hid said man amongst the bushes of the Nativity model.  A number of complaints led to the removal of the man but he was quickly replaced when even more people complained of his removal! Now most towns put in the man in the bushes.
With a giggle Hazel still recounts. “Man poo in tree Daddy”
Happy New Year.