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Published: February 7th 2009
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Despite staying still, life keeps coming at us.
The caravan remains in Turiscampo. We keep meaning to move on but it’s not quite that simple at the moment.
Two weeks ago we decided to fly home for a surprise week-long visit to the parents/in-laws, intending to pack up on our return and start touring again.
The trip home was easy. The RyanAir flights a bargain at 30 Euros each, return . We had packed home made sandwiches to eat on the way over . I enjoyed mine, but winced when I bit down hard on a seed in the bread . “Ooh that hurt. I wonder if I’ve fractured a bit of my tooth or filling?” I thought but it didn’t trouble me again so I forgot about it.
We hired a car at East Midland Airport and despite a disorientating diversion round Nottingham ( the M1 was closed !) we got home seemingly without a hitch.
The next day I noticed my tooth sensitive to cold drinks and mentioned it to Emily, my son’s girlfriend. ( She's a Dental Nurse). On Monday she rang me from work. One of the dentists
Windy day on Mam Tor.
Mam Tor , Castleton, Peak
District Derbyshire, England. here will see you tomorrow to check out that tooth if you like. By Friday I had endured a total of around 3 hours in the dentist’s chair having a gruelling root canal treatment! I’d had the beginnings of an infection under a molar and it was in danger of flaring into an abscess.
In between the appointments, I was distracted from the dental horrors by having a great time meeting friends and relatives and having no less than 3 cosy pub lunches/ dinners ( albeit eaten slowly and chewing on one side ) in front of roaring log fires! One at Castleton after doing an exhilarating walk in gale force winds over Mam Tor at Casleton in the Derbyshire Peak District . A bracing welcome to the British winter. The crisp bright days at home were rather nice though.
A phone call from Mike, our friend in Portugal however told a different tale in Iberia.
Rain and storms were lashing the area, but thankfully our unit was still in one piece as far as he could see.
We returned to Portugal on the Saturday and I nursed my battered jaw
for the next few days and took the antibiotics. The root canal treatment had not been straight forward and some complications have left it at slightly higher risk of a future flare up. So our plans to move on were put on hold until I’d taken the antibiotics and felt the whole thing had settled down acceptably.
The Portuguese weather remained very unsettled but we made the most of it this week and have had a lot of fun .
Not least of which was the awesome night when we watched “The Portuguese Ricky Martin” an act booked by the site’s restaurant .
Apparently he was calling in just for us at Turiscampo as part of his WORLD tour. Wow. We couldn’t wait!
His promo posters had been stuck around the site for a few weeks and they were truly tantalising. Shots of him with leather waistcoat and slicked-back blonde streaked hair , holding his microphone in Freddie Mercury type of a suggestive way....another of him caressing himself under a shower .... another with his pyrotechnical stage props.
Ooh Err Missus! Did us girls need to take a pair of knickers with
us to throw at him we wondered? Would our men folk feel intimidated ?
We ate our inclusive buffet in excitement as his roadies set up behind the hot food cabinets. As they hung the red and black velvet bed-spreads over the restaurant’s window curtain rail to set the stage the tension mounted .....Where was Ricky?
Was he in the building yet?
We had another plate of prawns to distract us.
A slow handclap started .. Where was he?
A few of the more senior members of the audience grew disgruntled and decided to head for their ‘vans to “draw the curtains and get settled”. Fools! They did not know what they were missing.
Within minutes “Ricky”. (I will not use his real name for fear of libel) burst forth and gyrated with boundless energy around the soup tureens. Looking for all the world like a slightly youthful (only just) Peter Stringfellow his oiled biceps bulged and his blonde pony tail quivered. He serenaded with sincerity, clutching his heart at the the sad bits and his crotch at the racy bits.
Dramatic Shirley Basseyesque gestures combined with draping himself
seductively around the dance floor pillars . He wooed the gals (average age 65 ) until they were glad they had their Tena Ladies on. He was hypnotic.
The climax of the show was when he did his pyrotechnics in front of the hot buffet. He lit a Vesuvius firework and placed it on the floor in front of him as he wound the audience up into a frenzy. Then he slowed the pace a little by singing a ballad through a haze of smoke from the glow of two flaming fire torches at the ends of a parrot perch ( no parrot was harmed in the act I can reassure you)
Then came a moment I will never forget.
Primed by Martin’s mate Chris, (I owe you one big style Chris) “Ricky” advanced on me . Cornered against the wall I was powerless to resist. Ricky came close, straddled me and dripped his sweat seductively onto my lap and looked into my eyes as he sang with all his deepest emotion. I just could not keep my hands from him and flushed with emotion!
Thankfully
my “mates” captured the moment for posterity and you can share it with me here . .......................................................................
I needed help from my mates and a stiff drink and to calm me down after though. Took my mind of my toothache I can tell you.
D
Stop Press ....Moving to Lisbon tomorrow (Sun) , at last the journey resumes!
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Angela
non-member comment
Now that is funny.
Its pouring with rain here and that has made me laugh out loud. Can't wait for our trip too start.