Beer: San Miguel 5%
One of the more significant reasons why Steph’s folks love Benidorm, I reckon, is that so many of their friends and acquaintances (mostly from Line Dancing circles, or rows) do too. That’s perfectly understandable – and what better than to spend extended holidays than in the sun with friends and family? I’m not entirely sold – but I can see the point.
Anyway, we’re out with a group of friends – it's Kim’s birthday. Steph and I don’t know Kim, and I do harbour doubts that we’ve ostensibly gatecrashed a family do. No, it’s fine, apparently, but I wouldn’t necessarily inflict a party of strangers to my dubious company for a few hours on their birthday. But, no, again, it’s fine. I haven’t written up the meal, ‘cause it’s a restaurant… I have a locally brewed beer, and the steak. Ice cream for dessert.
Post-meal we wander somewhat aimlessly en masse around the Old Town and, having accurately identified us as the incoherent gaggle of foreign tourists we are, we get set upon by the Vetusta hawker who corrals us to a table outside his employers’ bar.
We wouldn’t have picked it ourselves, but the beer was ok. The coffee (my shout, the coffee – happy birthday) wasn’t.
One of the more significant reasons why Steph’s folks love Benidorm, I reckon, is that so many of their friends and acquaintances (mostly from Line Dancing circles, or rows) do too. That’s perfectly understandable – and what better than to spend extended holidays than in the sun with friends and family? I’m not entirely sold – but I can see the point.
Anyway, we’re out with a group of friends – it's Kim’s birthday. Steph and I don’t know Kim, and I do harbour doubts that we’ve ostensibly gatecrashed a family do. No, it’s fine, apparently, but I wouldn’t necessarily inflict a party of strangers to my dubious company for a few hours on their birthday. But, no, again, it’s fine. I haven’t written up the meal, ‘cause it’s a restaurant… I have a locally brewed beer, and the steak. Ice cream for dessert.
Post-meal we wander somewhat aimlessly en masse around the Old Town and, having accurately identified us as the incoherent gaggle of foreign tourists we are, we get set upon by the Vetusta hawker who corrals us to a table outside his employers’ bar.
We wouldn’t have picked it ourselves, but the beer was ok. The coffee (my shout, the coffee – happy birthday) wasn’t.
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