I was awoken rudely last night by what sounded like a gun fight in the estate next to us. Some peering (and much fumbling with contacts) resulted in me discovering that it was, in fact, grown men with firecrackers. A few minutes later a rocket zoomed up from the gitaneria. And then cars started to whizz by, their drivers leaning on their horns. “So we won the football” muttered L, sleepily. Football? More of a rugby man, myself. Didn’t even know it was on.
Unlike poor Luis Lupiáñez, a resident of Roquetas who was sent to the Poniente hospital for an urgent checkup only to be kept waiting while the whole staff of Urgencías watched the football (previous game, on the 5th). Apparantly, at “01.15, as the final whistle blew, 28 doctors and nurses burst out of the room shouting happily and went back to work”.