Tales From A Spanish Village: Two Old Fools And A Delivery

by Victoria Twead

It's an uncomfortable feeling being without passports. We applied a month ago, and paid a hefty fee to have them delivered by courier. Had we filled out the forms correctly? Were our photographs acceptable? Had the passports got lost in the Christmas mail? Were they destroyed in the terrible floods that the UK suffered recently? Receiving mail has always been a bit of a problem in El Hoyo, as it often arrives on the Fish Van or needs collecting from the Repsol garage at the bottom of the mountain.

One cold, but sunny morning, we heard a commotion in the village.

"What's going on?" asked Joe.

We could hear shouts, and a large engine revving.

"I've no idea," I said, shaking my head.

Curious, we went out into the street to investigate.

El Hoyo's streets are extremely narrow, and the corners are all sharp right angles. Cars negotiate them with difficulty. Only pedestrians, uncle Felix's mule and motorcycles sail around the corners with ease...

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