A collective argument afternoon

As you know, everyone lives outside here, a mixture of laughter and fun in the sun, but it´s mostly Covid boredom now. Even so, three out of four ain´t bad.

Our son downloaded the game app “Who wants to be a millionaire” a few days ago. Oh the sheer enjoyment we´ve had together, getting answers wrong, moaning about the app being less clever than we are, and all in agreement about the situation. No blame game to be found. Google is banned except for the ridiculous question about potpourri with no correct answer, and we were right, nothing to do with slush or mud at all.

This could be classed as primetime for disagreement, but in these troubled times who gives a crap. Besides we won a million yesterday! I was was waiting for balloons, ticker tape, an oversized cardboard cheque, and socially distanced photoshoot. Shame really, it never happened so that classic red Ferrari will have to wait.

On the subject of cars, we lost some paperwork this afternoon for changeover from ours to theirs. Vitally important stuff required to get hubby´s name off the darn thing. The paperwork was (mostly) in the same folder yesterday, but something had gone astray, countdown to take off as to who´d had it last, which folder it WAS in cos it wasn´t where it SHOULD be. Oh yes, a blame game ensued this time, turned out to be much like who wants to be a millionaire in reverse format.

Now, there´s something you should know, even in the before times it was considered quite normal for an open air argument to occur in the garden and still is. It´s a rare thing to hear voices raised, but when they are, nobody gives a stuff about any earwigging.

When we first moved here it came as a surprise to us. I mean if we were pencilled in for a rare argument, it would be inside right? Well no, the “who cares” aspect of outdoor arguments becomes the norm for us expats too.

So today a rare thing happened, three different outdoor arguments occurred in unison. While we were arguing about paper, someone else was arguing on the phone about not being able to get a flight home, and what sounded like an argument about two dogs somewhere else was happening all at once.

I kid ye not, it´s such a quiet area you can hear a fart from across the valley, so every word can be heard. Under normal circumstances, parrots flying past are the loudest our garden life gets.

I think perhaps we came off best, the document was eventually found amidst the tons of admin mess in other folders, much of which is still decorating the floor tiles and tables. Our solicitor´s happy, we don´t need an invisible aircraft, and we haven´t got a dog.

In related news, sometimes the setting sun has arguments with clouds. Blue sky or pink? Looks like they split the difference.


Side note: The person on the phone trying to find a flight home was offered a seat on a chartered passenger plane for military personnel, at the bargain cost of only £3,000 for a one way ticket. (Spain to UK). The reply was as colourful as that sunset till realisation set in, being stuck here at the Southern Costa Blanca ain´t so bad after all.

I mean hotels are closed, empty restaurants will only do takeaways (ordered by phone), pubs have limited hours with limited capacity, only some shops are open, beaches are restricted and monitored, no partying, only ten people allowed to socialise together, cruise ships are all parked up in dock, planes live on the ground, masks have to be worn EVERYWHERE.

On the bright side, food shops, chemists, and petrol stations are always open, (an excuse to get dressed up for). We´re going to Aldi later on, so I need a shower before donning my party dress. I think they should make one of those info leaflets about places to not go and things not to do.

Oh, it´s all good fun on the Ghost Coast. 

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