I walked up the stairs weightlifting two full big bags of shopping.
They were ravenous for new blood.
Sixty bottles of wine, two-hundred cans of beer, ten russian salads, five platters of Manchego cheese, twelve bags of crackers, three bags of chips, fifteen bowls of hummus, three plates of fried peppers, three cakes, two coffee thermoses, fifty wine glasses...
Orwell is still trying to get us straightened out.
I sat there in just shorts, enjoying my coffee, the joint and the morning Andalusían sun.