by Roger Noons
a glass of cava
The flight was straightforward, as was our passage through Palma airport. The woman at Herz was polite. ‘Senor, you reserved a Seat Ibiza. It is ready for you. The tunnel leading to Soller is now open,’ she added, just before I closed the door. ‘Enjoy your holiday.’
The dual carriageway towards Palma was busy, but traffic moved smoothly. As I turned onto the Soller Road I sighed and Julie beamed. ‘Good to be back,’ she said.
As we approached the tunnel, I saw road blocks. There had been an accident, the Guardia Civil Cabo said. You need to use the old road.
5.8 km along the curvy road, we crossed the bridge into Valldemossa and were brought to a halt. There were raggedly-dressed people and animals wandering along the rutted road; in particular three men pushing a grand piano towards the church. A notice was handed through the window.
Julie translated, ‘Frédéric Chopin is performing this evening; new works.’
Five metres to my left a horse reared. ‘I’m sure that’s a woman.’ I said.
‘It will no doubt be George Sand,’ she laughed. ‘Must be a re-enactment.’
The air in the car became damp and the chill encouraged me to close the windows and turn on the heater.
We slowly made our way through the throng and leaving the town, were pleased to lose the smells of animal dung and mostly, unwashed people.
After Deia we made good time and arrived in Soller an hour before our dinner reservation. As we checked into Hotel Vila, I mentioned what we’d seen to the Receptionist.
‘Really Sir,’ he smiled. ‘I’ve heard nothing about any fiesta. It’s the wrong time of year.’ Seeing my expression, he stressed, ‘We are always told of such an event.’
About the author
Roger Noons has been writing creatively since 2006. He has come to specialise in short, short fiction and his Slimline Tales was published by Chapeltown Books in 2018.
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