There are some things in Spain that are worse than dear old Albion - dodgy drains and a rubbish selection of crisp flavours to name two - but there are some things that are incredibly superior. In my opinion the top of tree in this regard has to go to the humble Coca-Cola. In Britain, Coca-Cola is so insufferably sh*te that I rarely, if ever, drink the stuff.
In Spain however it seems to take on a life of its own that lifts it to drink of the Gods status. It’s nearly always served in a freezing cold bottle with a tall glass, ice and lemon and tastes truly divine. Now I concede that drinking it on a terrace of a chiringuito (beach bar) in the sunshine in front of the Mediterranean Sea does enhance its appeal somewhat, but there’s something else too - an X-factor if you will. My brother even has a name for it - the holiday coke. I know I’m not actually on holiday but it still tastes the same as when I am so the name stays.
The wind in Almeria is still blowing a right bastard by the way. It’s making me and Mrs B’s 16-mile round-round-trip bike ride to school a proper mission. The locals are dead right, that feckin wind has got a lot to answer for…
