Well it’s Friday again and it is also May Day so we are off to our local market in a moment to join in the gastronomical fair held by the sea in our small town. Since it is a public holiday here in Spain, all the shops will be closed, except for the restaurants and coffee bars and a few of the tourist shops and all the people working on their market stalls and the food fair as well. So it’s hardly a holiday for them is it? They will be working harder than ever and in fact spent all of yesterday erecting the stalls and the stage for the concert tonight. And let’s not forget the entertainers, and the dancers. There will be flamenco displays and some great guitar playing during the day on small stages in between the food stalls.
There might well be a few police around, and I guess the ambulance people will have a van hiding around a corner in case any of our elderly residents are overwhelmed by all the excitement. A couple of speciality shops will be open, and of course the ‘looky looky’ men will be out and about trying to sell their blankets, CD’s, bags and leather belts. (They earned this name as they are always on the ‘look out’ for the police who will chase them off for selling, or may even investigate them for being in Spain illegally).
Now I come to think of it who is on holiday? I suspect not too many after all, happily I am one of them, but not before I continue with the history lesson for today, I would hate to neglect your education.
Now I would like to put in a good word for poor old Henry at this point. He has been painted as such a monster, but all he wanted was a son.
He was pretty patient with Catherine the Arrogant,
and she did try, really, really hard, to produce said male heir but then when he threw her aside and married Anne of the Six Fingers,
she was a terrible disappointment as well. (She doesn’t look at that special does she?) She had one girl, then carelessly lost the rest until he was desperate to get rid of her too. and try again.
Third time lucky he thought I’ll try out Jane, she’s got blonde hair maybe that will work. And Bingo, it arrived, a little baby boy. Shame that Mum didn’t survive the ordeal and baby almost didn’t either, but he hung on to life by the skin of his teeth and Henry was happy at last.
Well, almost as the boy simply wasn’t up to much, always wheezing and coughing and spluttering and not too king-like.
‘Heir and a spare,’ a seer whispered in Henry’s ear. ‘Get some more Sire or your House may be doomed.’
This was an alarming thought, so Henry got back into ‘hunting mode’ and set out to look for a good breeding cow among all the local talent.
I don’t know if you agree with me, but so far his taste in women looks woefully lacking, or maybe they just employed lousy court painters? We will never know.