Chapter 60

The waiter approached. He was English. No doubt he was a student who had gotten himself a summer job to supplement his student grant. “Hello,” he smiled. “Are you ready to order?”

We were and gave him our order.

The waiter left and a few minutes later returned with our drinks.

“I like these Pom…” Sam faltered.

“Pomadas,” Cliff completed.

“Don’t drink it too quickly, because you’re only having the one,” Mark told him.

Sam nodded and thankfully didn’t argue.

I must admit, the food, when it arrived, was excellent. Even Tom seemed to enjoy his paella—if the way he cleaned his plate was any indication.

This time we all declined the waiter’s offer of a sweet. We wended our way slowly back to the car park and piled back into the car.

* * * *

“It’s amazing how many British products they have here,” Mark said, looking at a row of familiar breakfast cereals in the hypermarket.

“They have to cater to the tourists,” Cliff told him.