[Slapsie Maxie]

When I was 19 years old, I had a friend called Harriet. She was a tall, willowy and head turningly pretty English rose. I used to follow her around with my tongue hanging out like a sick puppy while she, in turn, tolerated me and allowed me to spend what little money I had on meals and clothes for her. How little life changes.

One summer, as all good middle class English girls should, she went off to Spain to teach “English as a Foreign Language” in a convent school near Granada and I, moonsick as I was arranged to come out and meet with her in this beautiful city for her to allow me the good fortune of escorting her around Andalucia.

But, true to my 19yr old form, I got my dates wrong and arrived some two days early much to Harriet’s annoyance. She had made a friend at the school, Thea who agreed to put me up for two days and it was with this one move that my life changed forever and Granada became cemented in my heart as one of the most wonderous cities the lord ever allowed man to create.

Thea turned out to be the single most attractive girl whoever walked God’s earth. Eyes the size of saucers and a heart to match. The two days passed with me basking in the warmth of her passion and olive skin and welcoming bed and I extended my stay by some time to be with this vision of perfection in human form.

So, when my chum of this trip suggested that we change our plans and head to Granada for the day rather than Cadiz, I was thrust back into a proustian moment of kisses, laughter and bliss the like of which I have seldom experienced since. Who was I to refuse a call from the past?

We set off very early this morning to make an early appearance at The Alhambra. It only allows 8,000 people a day through its gates these days to prevent damage, and, as we had not booked, we were not sure of getting in, which would have been a crying shame.

We arrived with the help of a kind chap who let us trail him in his car almost to the gates of the palace even though I am sure it was way out of his way. We were thrilled to find that the queue was not, as we expected and had been warned by the increasingly unreliable Time Out Guide, miles long but only a few people. We were soon inside and able to get an entrance slot for the Palacios Nazaries only an hour later.

Few things prepare one for the Alhambra. It is, like The Taj Mahal, one of those wonders of the Muslim world, that takes your breath away every time you see it, no matter how many times you see it. This time did not disappoint. The Military towers of the Alcazabar, the sumptuous gardens of the Generalife and the quiet poetry of the Sultan’s private chambers. It is, to use overused words, awe inspiring.

We spent a very happy five hours wandering around the grounds listening to an exceptional audio guide, before heading back down towards the coast where I wanted my chum to see the direct opposite of The Alhambra. If the Alhambra is a show of what money, power and taste can create at it’s greatest, Belamadina Marina is a perfect example of what having “the best taste new money can buy” is all about. Created some 10 years ago, this marina is a ghastly mish mash of styles, all of which cost a fortune to put together. In its marina are moored boats that would make Kashoggi (sp?) blush in shame, but there is not one ounce of good taste. It is the place where people with gold plated bath taps come to die.

We planned to have a snack there, but there were only pizza bars, Brit pubs and a Starbucks rip-off coffee shop. So, we soon hurried home. My friend was, however, charmingly as beguiled by the latter display of opulence as the former and suggested that perhaps, behind their backs, the people of The Alhambra referred to the Sultans as having “ all fur coat and no knickers” I like this person a lot.

So, I hear you ask. What happened to Harriet and Thea? Well, I never did see much of Harriet again, once she realised that the, in my case rather watery, gravy train had left, she found some other poor sucker and charmed him to penury. Some true friendships turn out to be nothing of the sort. How little life changes.

As for Thea, therein lies one of the great tragedies of my life. I returned home to the UK and kept in touch with her by letter for over a year all the while planning my return, until I heard from a mutual friend that she had been killed while riding without a helmet on one of the silly mopeds young Spaniards crave. Damn her. I still have every one of her letters.

S

P.S: This is a food website, so, Today, we ate some salted roast almonds and broad beans and will probably have some fish at the beach bar.