Very quiet this morning.
38 degrees at 8.30, in the sun.
We arrived at the village centre at 10, as the music started. The locals we're up and dancing,straight away.. 70% of whom were ladies of advanced years. There was beer or sangria on tap, sardines sizzling away, rankly.. The Directors turned up their noses,( liberally).
There is nothing nicer, after a couple of beers, than to have a slice of traditional loaf, with a fat, slightly charred sardine on top, in your hand. You tear the fish apart, cramming lumps into your mouth . Wipe your fingers on the bread and bung what's left under the table.. Only now, they provide rubbish bins..
Management settled for a Bifana.. Thin slices of pork, fried in garlic and piri piri oil,lathered with creamy mustard...all in a papo seco.., ( dry tit )..bread bun.
The traditional marchers, from the big town, arrived at 2350. Spectacular 30 minutes display. Then they we off to perform somewhere else.
Other groups of marchers were due to arrive throughout the night, but we knocked off at 1.3