Ian had an appointment at Specsavers yesterday to sort out some new contact lenses. No, we´re not back in the UK – I am talking about Specsavers in Fuengirola (Where they pick up the phone and say: “Hello, good afternoon, Specsavers, Gary speaking. How may I help you?”).
Now then, Fuengirola … What a place. Whilst Ian was having his eyes checked, I explored the nearest surroundings and what I saw was quite frankly nothing to blog home about. More British cafés and bars than you can shake a stick at, advertising all-day full English breakfasts, one pint of Tetley´s bitter for the price of two (or was it the other way round?) and quiz nights with Trevor at the Yorkshire Lad. The city, a buzzing place, was packed with tourists revealing sunburned body parts in various shades of pink and red (why is it that some men think it´s okay to walk around topless, folded football shirt tucked into the waistband of their shorts, belly hanging out?), hen parties with silly hats and witty tee-shirts proclaiming to be ´Little Miss Innocent – Not !!!´ and tarty-looking women wobbling about on mega high wedges.
Not even trying to eat anything vaguely Spanish, we found ourselves in one of the Brit cafés (where the special offer was a coffee and a brandy for only two Euros) and ordered coffee and bacon butties which were served with HP brown sauce – ahhhh, champion. Feeling suitably refreshed, we ventured down to the seafront and I had a little paddle for the first time this year which was actually very pleasant and probably the highlight of my day.
After an hour or so we both had had enough; the hills were calling. On the way out of Fuengirola, I spotted it – the sign of signs – shame I didn´t manage to take a photograph. It really summed the place up for me. It said … wait for it … ´Spainsburys` with a big Union Jack underneath. I´ve seen lots of British shops in Spain: Britbits, Arkwrights ect but ´Spainsburys`? That really takes the biscuit, doesn´t it? I´m simply lost for words.
I´m sure Fuengirola is paradise for lots of people and that´s fine by me. I´m also convinced that somewhere in Fuengirola there must be a quaint little corner, some well-hidden little gem only known to native Fuengirolians (but I don´t think I can be bothered to go looking for it). Truth to be told, personally I´d hate to live, work or holiday in this resort (or simply visit for a few hours). Maybe Ian should consider laser treatment to cure his shortsightedness. Hold on, I saw an advert for an eye clinic in the paper somewhere. Ah yes, here it is – it´s in … oh no, not the F-word again.
Fuengirola beach
Special offer - who could resist???