
Royal Turkey
It sounds like a two-word review of Prince Edward's excruciatingly awful 80s production of It's a Knockout starring members of his own family, but 'royal turkey' is in fact the literal translation of the Spanish term for peacock, pavo real. Now someone's keeping a pair in Juviles, and the bird's distinctive cry - so redolent of life in India during the time of the Raj - is now heard across our sleepy little Andalusian village at regular intervals. Hopefully this is a temporary arrangement only, and I say 'hopefully' not because I object to the high-pitched call, but because the poor things are in a cage hardly big enough for a pair of chickens. The cock has to position himself carefully right in the middle of his enclosure and stand at a forty-five degree angle to the sides if he is to open his tail without injury. This means the hen is just inches away from her mate's magnificence, and already a captive audience, which rather defeats the object.
Generally speaking, nobody in Juviles would keep any living thing they didn't intend to eat (apart from dogs, that is, and many of those are used to hunt, herd or guard things that you can eat). So my guess is that the semana cultural this year will see a reconstruction of an historic roman or moorish banquet, with the unfortunate royal turkey as the centrepiece. I wonder if peacock tastes more like swan, or golden eagle? And this being Juviles, will they try to fry it?

The holiday within a holiday
Back in Scotland
Where did that fortnight go? Juviles and Spain in general were blisteringly hot, although as there was a lot of rain over the first half of the year the landscape is still beautifully green. We had a fairly lazy two weeks, although I did manage to fix a few things, oil the woodwork, and touch up some paint. The house is now all ready for our next guests, who arrive from Barcelona on August 2nd. Still some weeks available late July, then late September, early October, and then the main October school half-term.
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