Night Out in Seville

NIGHT OUT IN SEVILLE
It's a quarter to eight, cool night air has started to descend and I have moved under overhead protection outside an Irish bar which is appropriately alongside the cathedral.


Having killed a pint of Guinness the honey glazed pork ribs have caught my eye and I have shifted gear to order a less barbaric drink- a Copa de Rioja. The waitress speaks excellent English and might even be one of those expatriate Irish that are recruited to these make believe Irish pubs, as I have discovered in Bendigo and Fremantle. Still, anything must be better than unemployment in Dublin at this time.
The sun's warmth is radiating from my body and makes the alfresco evening dining more than bearable. The only downside is the cluster of smokers standing outside the bar and peering in at a football match-something local I think-maybe last night's pathetic draw between Real Madrid and Lyons. Manchester United's turn to-night against Marseilles-wonder whether the Spanish will be interested enough for it to be televised. Still as they showed the full rugby union encounter between Gloucester and London Irish last night, anything is possible in this continuingly surprising country.
I was right an exchange between an Irishman and the waitress confirmed she is not a native of Seville. Good, my order is going to be right. English, Spanish and French swirl past my ears, the different races united only in indulgence or in my case gluttony. As the rotund English comedy actor, Robert Morley said, when he felt the urge to exercise coming on he lay down until it had gone. I know how he felt. Let’s leave that topic until I front up in the Richmond gym in late March
Wow! My first real thick cut chips in Spain(with tomato sauce) and whilst the glaze on the pork ribs is not nearly as good as that in Memphis nor on those smoked in my Weber in Richmond, the quantity of meat on the bones is far superior.

The wine is receding to the bottom of the glass and perhaps it is time to cede the night space to Seville’ s youthful ravers and head back to my convent hotel to watch United on my personal LG TV and reflect on the days of the Busby Babes, when it really was a Manchester team.