Beside the Seaside

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In Which Helicopter Nick Disappears

March 30, 2008 by Mike

Orgiva

I've timed my entry into this magikal world just right. Today is Sue's birthday party -- a gathering of the clans, longhairs arriving from their houses and huts (and yurts) from across the valley and up in the high hills.

Here's Paul, who knew my sister 25 years ago in Brizzle -- and Rick, who first met Paul in Goa 20 years ago -- there's Hugh and Rita, who may have been the first hippies in the Alpujarra, now with children and grandchildren in tow -- Helicopter Nick, Nice Nick, but no sign of Top Hat Vicki -- that's Sorrel, setting up the music system -- all the hair I saw yesterday is here, and more -- and there's Sue, the birthday girl, dancing and laughing and drinking and dancing some more.

Everyone's brought food -- vegetarian *anything* -- except the people who've brought booze: vino tinto, San Miguel, and sangria. (The strongest sangria is re-christened Special Brew. It does what it says on the tin.)

Funky, funny Frankie and I make fresh orange juice. How fresh? Plucked straight from the tree fresh.. so the children have something to drink. But the grown-ups keep adding vodka and vino tinto to make more Special Brew. The husks of hundreds of squeezed oranges pile up in the kitchen.

The people of Orgiva live close to nature. There's a distinct smell of grass in the air.

A good time is had by all.

Jokes and stories and dancing and music. Helicopter Nick becomes Sticky Nicky. (It's a long story.)

There aren't many people left standing when I stagger from the fire at ridiculous o'clock.

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