An image to die for. It’s curious how individuals from another time and place worm their way into your personal soap opera, and incredibly curious to see at last what they look like. I’ve read a fair pile of Transition recollections, but I don’t do telly, or moonlight and romance in general. So sudden visions of Mellado – an unsung hero, and, by the look of it, a nice man, rather like his boss – and then González and Suárez in the Moncloa make for an acidic experience. Fortunately a box of Celler El Masroig has been acquired to temper the effects.
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