A day in Soto De Luina, Asturias

This piece is an excerpt from the Jimmy Hogg blog, a writer living in Toronto, Canada, often amusingly confused with the footballer Jimmy Hogg.

I wandered down a side street, had a glass of wine, they didn’t have much in the way of food, other than the usual stuff involving meat, eggs, bread, cheese and combinations thereof. I didn’t want to walk too far, because my back is stuff. Wandered into a Sideria and had a bottle of cider- a particularly good one, I might add. There were free bits and pieces to eat on the bar- smaller versions of stuff that they have on menus everywhere. Bit’s of tortilla, anchovies and piquillo peppers on bread, ham on bread. A piece of cheese wrapped in ham, half an egg sprinkled with paprika. Some egg salad type thing on bread, a piece of cheese with ham and egg. An egg mounted on an egg between two slices of cheesey ham- you get the picture.

So I grazed and then tipped well on my two Euro bottle of cider and looked for dinner elsewhere. I looked at the menu over a glass of wine which was all the same stuff. The matriarch emerged from the kitchen and I ate some small pieces of tortilla and some chorizo and some cheese. Okay. I thought, tonight, dinner is free, but the drinks I pay for.

Back at the ludicrously expensive place I’m staying I read a great deal of Gatsby. Which I’m really enjoying- it’s pretty short too which is satisfying to me sometimes, knowing that I’ll be able to finish a whole book in a matter of days. Especially having felt, of late, that I haven’t read much, it’s good to get stuck into something. I’m still feeling sorry for myself. Need some human interaction in my life and maybe someone to soap up my balls from time to time and give me a pet name- anything really.

I am making plans to see my old friend Rod in London, he’s rehearsing a play there, so that’ll be great. I haven’t seen him in five years. So, after I’m finished with this inspiring bull stuff of walking around like a numpty in a crisis I’m going to go to a beach, swim, read. Write and then go to the UK a little earlier than I’d planned. Only by four or five days. Unless of course a sexy Spanish widow wants me to adopt her children and live a simpler. More satisfying life of milking goats, making cheese and sleeping all. Afternoon while occasionally worrying about the purchasing power of the Euro in the global economy.

A (hopefully) interesting excerpt from the travels of James David Hogg!

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