The Rapture

I was at the fuente picking up supplies when the German fire-eater called me over. 'Look in the sky', he said, nonchalantly playing with a box of matches, 'wultures!'. Now, Mojácar doesn't have vultures (oh yes it does...) and these birds must have come over from Cadiz or down from central Spain. What can they be after here in our quiet and increasingly bankrupt corner of paradise? I saw them wheeling over Marina de la Torre, the ugly hotel, apartment and golf complex on the way to Garrucha so rushed home to get a camera, only to find them flying over my house. They are now in Turre... having some lunch.

Later: My associate at the radio had to go up the mountain behind Mojácar this morning (Wednesday), to El Picacho, to fix something in the COPE transmitter cabin. He said that when he got up to the top there were about 200 vultures flying around his car and he was so frightened he turned around and came down again.

A left-wing artist friend was positively gleeful about the whole thing. 'They've come to eat all the sin verguenzas', he said, rubbing his hands, 'they are one of the seven plagues called down from the heavens'.

It was the time of The Revelation.