A flag waving bou embolat,

shoulder to shoulder feasting

upon cobbled streets afire


To the milk fed would be

matadors always the ambit

for death born of dereliction,

first love and dire ramifications


How gloriously foolhardy it was

in that now long gone age of

capricious Catalonian baptism


I wore a golden tunic in honour

of the bull, you a widow’s shroud

in deference to its cruel execution


We mingled with the chaotic hordes

intoxicated, drunk on human pungency,

more than a little Roussillon also


That was all before the belligerents

were at each other’s throats and

antecedent to the fall of Barcelona


Come nightfall, before the arguments

and brawls the travelling Moorish girl

danced a bare bellied zambra to the

snap of castanets in a smouldering cafe


Thankfully you failed to notice that she

had snatched my attention, if not my heart

for that my lovely is yours for keeps


25 thoughts on “TO THE SNAP OF CASTANETS

    1. A very nice wander I must say. I left a comment on your other post that you were talking about rewriting but I think WordPress ate it. I was just saying , believe me, if you’d crossed a line I would not have liked your blog. So there you go x

      1. Good for you Mike. !!! Imagine that!!! Not lotta people know that, prob not even Seb himself. Well in honour of us going to Glencoe it peed rain from the second we got out the car there till we drove off again. The receptionist wisnae wrong when she said there would be snow on the hills. We of course thought rubbish. But after ice formed on our noble party’s jackets, I got hypothermia and we had to beat a retreat, that was after we found all our party members again, since the visibility was zilch, we did concede the receptionist was right. Still a good weekend

      2. Funny how as a couple we get to enjoy ourselves in the most dreadful weather. Once Shirley and experienced pretty much what you did in Glencoe yet still have a laugh about it even now! Did you know – unlikely thinking about it – my mate (a Scot as it happens) donkey’s years ago had his Alsatian off the lead in Old Deer Park, Richmond when a chap running about the place stopped in his tracks with the dog right up close barking somewhat…the chap insisted quite rightly the beast be removed and leashed forthwith. It turned out to be none other than Seb himself just a month prior to winning the Olympic gold. Imagine if he’d bitten him! Boring but true that is.

      3. Way to go Mike…what a story. Anything but boring. Blog it sometime. That would be brill. On another subject Mr Shey and I have often savoured the most awful weather on mountains. All part of life’s rich tapestry, just wish bits of me skin were not still falling off…

    1. I believe that there are many things she never told me…e.g. why was she so willing all those years ago to leave the county of Surrey with such great haste! That’s what I want to know!

      1. It seems I was the last male born and bred in Surrey with a pulse she hadn’t…well she paused at this point then added…shared a pint of lager with. So that’s all fine and sorted then…you see we have trust in our marriage and she knows very well how clever I am at spotting untruths!

      2. Wow, she’s shared lagers with a lot of guys, I mean really a lot, you know, like probably more than…well some people I know but let’s just say, she must like to…um…drink.

      3. I can trust her though…even when she goes off to prayer meetings in a very little black dress caked in makeup and arrives home in the early hours disheveled…you see we get such fierce easterly winds in these parts…it’s nothing more than that!

      4. She in a little leopard skin something this night…she says she is down at the Docks handling out parcels to the poor sailors…that’s the kind of gal she is!

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