Yesterday evening I asked a group of people what they thought about a certain establishment in Las Americas that a girlfriend had been to with her sister and suggested we try. I had only ever heard it discussed in derogatory terms – you know the sort of thing…. “good place to go if you want to grab a granny” – “local knocking shop” – “full of mutton dressed as lamb” etc. It seems by the answers I got that what I had heard, as rumour could in fact be true.
However, forewarned as they say is forearmed and we are grown-ups so with this in mind I thought rather than dismiss her suggestion again we would try it.
With the make-up in place, the highest heeled shoes I have and the blue décolleté dress that shows just enough but not too much bare flesh I felt like Eva Herzigova’s mother – pretty good really for an oldie.
Girlfriend and I met up as agreed and when I said were we would go she was horrified, Oh No! We can only go on a Wednesday or a Sunday, they are the nights when they have a flamenco show and we get to do Latin dancing afterwards. The rest of the time, it is moraaliton (those with loose morals) – She is Finnish!
We ended up having an Italian meal that was excellent even if I did feel a little over-dressed sitting amongst the old women of the village in their woolly jumpers and ankle boots. Did I ‘pull’ – yes but only the muscle in the back of my leg as I precariously climbed the high step into restaurant. Did I catch anything, yes again a very sore throat, a bunged up nose and the beginnings of what feels like flu. I knew I it was too early to discard the vest!