"You won't believe it. I just saw Jumilla, walking through a gate, off on an adventure! Walking mind you!"
In Sainsbury's, Maria, the friendly Spanish woman on the delicatessen counter, offers me a slice of chorizo made from superior Iberico pigs, on a piece of grease proof paper placed on the counter. I can still taste its rich, spiciness now, six hours later.
Taking up BB's theme of things one is secretly ashamed of (see yesterday's comments), I could write a book about them. But one that comes immediately to mind is the way I tingle all over at the sound of The Marseillaise. Perhaps it is because when at school we had to learn it off by heart and sing it to French Ambassador who was visiting the school. Or perhaps because it is a rousing tune, and I like it.