Alderley & Estepona
PAMARZI
Mon 29 Jul 2013 19:58
Estepona, If you forgive the dozen or so high rise developments that
besmirch the jagged line of the hinterland mountains, is a surprisingly
pleasant place. The port as much a dock for a fishing fleet as a marina for
well-heeled yachties and power crazed, egocentric motor boaters. They come
and they go throughout the day and the night, the trawlers, the purse
netters, the seine fishers, the lamp boats whose arc lights lure calamari
from the depths to their deep fried future. Fish lightly scents and lingers
on the air in the manner a woman's perfume leaves a lasting hint of her
sensuality. This is a working place yet the docks resemble a wedding cake.
White and castellated, Mediterranean blue pinnacles every twenty yards or
so, multi-tiered echoing that celebratory confection. The old town a cobbled
and tiled labyrinth of narrow flower decked streets which for the last
hundred years have honoured the educator of this town.
We escape the midday sun in Pamarzi's cooled interior, reflecting on the
events of the last week or so. Monarch cheaply and efficiently whisked us
home from Gibraltar on the 17th. We resisted their gourmand delights and
magazine selection - Okay!
Thursday a day of domestic chores and car preparation for she is after all
on of the chosen '100'! Friday a gentle drive to the Capital, navigate the
spiral nightmare that is the Royal Gardens Hotel subterranean car park, a
pleasant room overlooking the regal gardens we await the arrival of the
Behrens. With whom we dine at the Gore Hotel, the haunt, I am told, of music
industry celebrities. Non graced our dining room that night but as ever we
bantered the night away, friends comfortable in each other's company.
Six forty five, a faintly moist but sun washed morning Steven graciously
joined me to deliver the car to the Kensington Palace garden display.
Covered and secured behind white picket fence with multi million pound
company we leave her in security guarded, royal garden opulence.
Down river to Greenwich (what else would you expect a Capitalised sailor to
do?), we enjoy the history and the ride. Suitably black tied and cocktail
frocked we saunter through the early evening shadowed park, Betjamin in
mind, " mushroomy, pine woody, evergreen smells", sun softly setting, to the
Royal Orangery. Polite bon home cloaked the selected few, plied with
Tattinger and canapés of fish eggs and smoked delights. The Germanic C.E.O.
of our proud British brand speaks. We applaud and smile for we are good and
true Europeans now.
The event was special, we are honoured to have been chosen and humbled by
the beauty of the engineering excellence and pioneering exploits of those
who have designed, built, raced and driven these wonderful machines that
surround us. We are papperazzied and served Roederer all sunlit, picnic
basketed day. Evening draws, we burble through an excited, camera clicking
throng into the west end. Hood down, four hundred and twenty horses power
our northward journey. Familiar roads, perfect line on well-known corners,
the garage opens to ensconce the sweet yet acrid smell of hot tyres and
gentle ticking of a cooling V12.
Monday domestic chores and banking, an evening with dear friends planning
sailing adventures. Tuesday business matters, an evening with more friends
sharing our lives and planning future fun. Wednesday to business again,
presenting to loyal Paul a retirement gift and best wishes for his chapter
two. Thursday home to close the house and then Friday, Jane and Ian arrive
resplendent in gleaming red Audi RS to deliver us to Monarch's care for the
flight back to Gibraltar.
We are back! Pamarzi our nautical home, the repository of our ambitions and
fears, the maritime embodiment of what we are and what we wish to become;
competent nautical explorers of this world. Saturday we provision and
prepare for there is much to ready. Sunday we set sail aboard the savings
and dreams of a life time exercising our (I hope) growing nautical skills.
Dear reader I wish you were here but I'm glad you're not for this is our
moment in time there will be other moments in time that we will share with
you.
Roger & Lynn
The crew of Pamarzi