January 25, 2010
I spent a few hours and met an English guy called Joe in the bar where I watched Leinster and London Irish knock the living daylights out of each other on Saturday in the Heineken Cup rugby match.
The bar is in Fuengirola and has Sky TV and luckily on a day when it was bucketing down outside and the wind was howling, the Missuses umbrella had done an inside out turn and wanted to head off to warmer climes, they had the heating on and a choice of leaving the door open or closed. The trouser legs were wet from the knees down but I did not mind. The hot in the winter and cold in the summer heater would soon solve that problem.
At half time I took a stroll around the pub looking at the pictures and photographs hanging on the walls. Well it was more of a shuffle as the pub is quite small and the lights low. Now the place was not full. In fact there were only three others and the two staff members who turned up the music during half time just in case we wanted to listen to the studio experts waffling on about what we had seen during the first half taking place at Twickenham.
Joe, having overheard some of our conversations during the first half stated,
“So, you like rugby then?”
“Yes,” I said.
“I know nothing about rugby, I prefer football. How are Leeds getting on against Spurs?” Joe says.
“ I haven’t a clue but I think that it might be on the telly in the pub next door.” I said.
“Could never understand the rules.” says Joe.
I decided not to answer him as I wanted to look at the paintings and the photographs and anyway I have difficulty with the rules myself since they made all the changes. The wife is now an expert and sees things that I don’t, like the guys coming in to the side of the loose ruck. She also puts a lot of the players off side and only occasionally asks me “What was that for? Who is that Ref? Where is he from?”
“Wales” I say, knowing that the conversation will stop there because she is not yet well up on Welsh referees or any referees for that matter.
“On holiday?” says Joe. “No.” said I. “Live here then?” “Yes.” “Shite weather!” says Joe
Some of the photographs were of film stars of yesteryear; others were of advertising that was well known in the 50s and 60s. An interesting and varied selection obviously put together by an enthusiastic proprietor over the years who has an interest in film, music and that era - the olden days!
“What did you do?” says Joe. “When?” I answered in typical Irish fashion.
“What did you do for a crust?” says Joe. “I’m an Artist” I said.
“So you’re an Artist!” says Joe.
The match ended in a draw. Leeds got a result against Spurs. They drew!
The missus and myself bid Joe and company farewell and headed off in partially dry clothes to battle against the rain and wind on our stroll home.
“Every child is an artist. The problem is how to remain an artist once he grows up”. Pablo Picasso.
Towards a head of Pablo Picasso, Watercolour, 50x 40 cm. Roger Cummiskey.