Dulcie (Cass’s beloved goddaughter) and best friend (the equally beloved) Georgie, reporting from Casa La Montaña on our fourth stay here. Cooee! Room for one more on the love boat?
Comments from Cass in ladylike pink, and remarks from Jonathan in manly blue.
One overnight stay in the airport later (best not to travel with us!), we are finally here! The sun is shining; the flowers are in full bloom; the mountain views are, as always, spectacular; the beloved Country tunes are playing (can you believe they didn’t know this one?! And, Dulcie, just remind me: do you count your money when you’re sitting at the table, or do you NEVER count your money when you’re sitting at the table?); and the light breeze is jingling Cass’s bejewelled umbrella.
And the gals are in their rightful place, on the sun loungers. All in all, we’d say things are pretty bloomin’ dandy.
From the bliss of Casa La Montaña, the stress of travel can be forgotten, as each idyllic day folds into the next like a perfectly whisked egg white um, are you doing the whisking?. Meanwhile, kudos for the best ‘idyllic day/egg’ metaphor EVER! Each morning we are greeted by Jonathan’s superb freshly made morning juice waiting for us for when we have finally hauled our bodies out of bed I don’t like to tell tales, but they sleep with the room completely blacked out. In the morning (I use the term loosely – but lovingly), it’s like they’ve come out of a cave, blinking at the daylight. And never hungover, btw, in case Dulcie’s mum is reading. C&J are then always more than obliging in letting us hot-foot it to our sun loungers where we will, as history dictates, burn ourselves to a crisp despite Cass’s sweet pleas to wear more sun cream there is only ever factor 50 in my house but I might as well hand them the olive oil! We are, if nothing else, creatures of habit. It took C&J a couple of years of taking us to the beautiful, idyllic attractions of Barx and environs the museums, the galleries… before they realised our favourite thing to do, as two slovenly sluts hardly! Or are there things you haven’t shared??, was to lie in the sun.
In fact, each day, sun-tanning is only interrupted by an epic lunch spread made by Cass. Erm, hello? Ably assisted by… oh, who am I kidding?! Salads, tortillas and crostini lathered in more aioli than should be humanly appropriate. This year being no exception; ‘I’m so hungry’ never being a statement heard on these Spanish mountains… This is certainly true. I actually turn into a mountain on these visits.
The only worrying thought to occupy us during the day is what cocktail we would like for our 6.30pm cocktail hour. Be afraid, be very afraid. Whether it is a cherry bomb (new to the repertoire this year), a strawberry daiquiri or a moonshine, Jonathan, our esteemed cocktail G (G for Genius *faux-modestly flaps away the compliment*), never fails to make it jaw-on-the-ground delicious. Sometimes a little too delicious more like face-on-the-ground I fear…
There was one particular incident following a mouth-spanking GREAT expression martini where Cass and Georgie ended up on the kitchen floor in fits of giggles, with no recollection of events the morning after… needless to say, the photographic evidence is not kind! Please no, your parents might see, and strip me of godmother status! What goes on tour, stays on tour.
Cocktail hour is always followed by yet more amazing cooking by Cass oh stop, really, it’s nothing *simpers*, which is often barbequed to perfection by Jonathan (who every year, we eventually realised, strikes the same pose for the camera: manly, beer-in-hand, fire-proud). Copious amounts of food, beer and wine later, and we have the makings of a pretty spectacular girl band! Every year. Poor JH goes to bed, rolling his eyes, I’m guessing, but can hear us singing (shouting) along to One Direction: “you and ME, got a whole lot of history”. We are WAY cool. #barxhasn’tgottalent
So after a hard day of sunbathing, drinking, eating, singing and dancing, we schlep our exhausted bodies upstairs to our beautiful La Montaña diffuser-infused room (this year was Valencian Oranges – sigh!)…
…wearied by the thought of another day in absolute paradise. Then it’s rinse and repeat.
Roll on next time!