Tits and Knickers, Canary style

Parking on market day in Teguise is surprisingly easy we agreed as I hurtled the Fiat Panda into just one of the hundred or so vacant spaces in the centre of this Lanzarotian town, in the centre of Lanzarote on our March time trip to the Canary Isles.

“And there was me thinking this was the touristic market,” I gushed, flushed with the success of, not only surpurlative navigation skills but also staying on the correct side of the road the whole way up to the white walled, green shuttered pueblo.

“It does seem very empty,” Gracie commented. “You’d think that would be the epicentre of any market, wouldn’t you?” She waved at an empty square and an even emptier marquee, its plastic doors flapping in the not inconsequential breeze that Teguise is famed for.

“I told you the last time I came here it was like a wild west town, complete with tumbleweed infested streets,” said I.

“But that wasn’t market day, was it?” a backseat driver inquired rhetorically.

And of course, dear readers nor was this. Mrs Carmichael had dragged the Lunching Ladies of Lanza on a wild ‘bargain’ chase. The island’s biggest and oldest out-door market is held on a Sunday morning. This being Saturday, we were a good twenty hours early. Still, there was plenty of parking.

just me and the sixteen others (mrscarmichael)
just me and the twenty others (mrscarmichael)

And, as it turned out, plenty of ‘bargains’ to purchase.

But first we consoled ourselves with brunch.

tortilla heaven (mrscarmichael)
tortilla heaven (mrscarmichael)

And then, along with the other seventeen people in town that day, we hit the shops. Mis tres amigas acquired a lot of jewellery. I mean a lot, a lot.

I bought this………..

ever so slightly more garish in the flesh (mrscarmichael)
ever so slightly more garish in the flesh (mrscarmichael)

“Why?” you ask.

I am the first to agree that the question is a reasonable one. And the answer.

I don’t know.

but it seemed like a good idea at the time. And I did meet the woman who crocheted it. That makes it better I think. And it suits me. Well, in a dark room with a following wind. It suits me better than it suits my friends. I guess, on reflection that could and probably does say more about me……………and not in a good way.

A wee while later I bought this………

make mine a cactus cocktail, por favor (mrscarmichael)
make mine a cactus cocktail, por favor (mrscarmichael)

“Why?” you ask.

It is in many ways an even more reasonable question. More so when you know that it cost more and I have worn it even less than the yellow crochet hat. I wore the hat for the rest of our time in Teguise because I thought I was funny. Hmmmmm. Photos don’t lie unfortunately. Thirty one of Yours Truly sporting this fashion forward item of clothing have gone into the virtual bin. It’s for the best.

Or should I say breast?

Breast might indeed be best because I was still wearing my sunny hat when I avoided arrest by wink and a nippy burst of speed an hour or so later.

Bored ever so slightly with the conspicuous consumption of baubles by the only three people I knew in Teguise, I had plonked myself down at a café to await empty- wallet- time when my eye was drawn by two mannequin contemporaries of mine in a distressing state. It was that good ‘ol Teguise breeze you see.

oh no (mrscarmichael)
oh no (mrscarmichael)

Her friend was similarly exposed.

tits ahoy (mrscarmichael)
tits ahoy (mrscarmichael)

I jumped up and and attempted to cover their modesty. My café owner, coming out for a not so swift fag, caught me with both hands on a bosom and made the ludicrous assumption that Mrs C was stripping the gals for her own pleasure and an x- rated photo opportunity.

Shouting he rushed at me. I dodged his parry and, fleet of foot vanished into, you guessed it, a jewellery shop.

My friends, looking up from their jewel buying for a nanosecond, found it hilarious. Thank heaven the mannequins’ manager realised I was more good samaritan than sex pest and called off the one man Spanish Armada. Phew.

“I’m putting a white wash on,” I announced on return to Villa Vida later that afternoon. The girls brought me their whites and we collapsed by the pool to discuss nonexistent markets, excessive jewellery consumption, lucky escapes and clean clothes. All discussion complemented by a well deserved vino blanco. Or two.

“Huston, we have a problem,” I was forced to concede on attempting to allocate lavender scented linen and lingerie to four piles a wee while later.

Gracie it transpires, has the same taste in bras and knickers as YT and apparently we had both stocked up well for our holiday. The bras were easy (she has no tits), the seven pairs of identical XXS knickers not so. Thank goodness we’ve been amigas for mumble, mumble, mumble years. What’s a bit of polyester – sharing between old friends?

We met, last Friday, in Soho for a catch-up. As tour guide, I booked the themed venue – tapas of course and set the rules of attendance.

All purchases made in Lanzarote must be worn.

I thought it amusing at the time. Gracie and K…… were there sporting identical volcanic orange pendants and rings on most fingers. L…… apparently hasn’t taken off the silver ring she had fitted in the breast shop. And I, M’lud? I ‘forgot’ the self imposed rubrics and arrived looking great.

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21 thoughts on “Tits and Knickers, Canary style

      1. Then they are too nice FOR you, too – true friends are not nice to a friend, they are honest. Till it hurts. Or hurt, till it’s honest?

  1. I can assure you franhunne4u, we are definitely not nice to her if we can help it! I, of the no tits, am the one in the XXS knickers, whereas, sadly for Mrs C her XXLs were soon identified and returned. We indulge her.

  2. Totally agree with the first commenter – you need a regular gig for a travel/lifestyle mag. I spluttered into my coffee reading this. Awesome writing!
    PS. Your hat looks a little like a teapot cozy of mine – and that is a compliment.

  3. I will politely refrain from comment on the hat. And the wrong day for market. I do, however, like the necklace. 😀 Your posts are always a treat, Mrs C ❤

  4. My goodness. Terrible taste AND doing unspeakable things to mannequins. I hesitate to publish the lovely earrings I got in Bali for fear of making you blush.

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