A beautiful morning

7am the morning of 16 Nov 2008 I stood on our balcony at the Aparthotel, Benalmadena looking out over the little road that led to the beach. The early sun displayed colours of purple orange and red as it rose higher above the horizon and a lonely sea bird glided high in the sky seeking a hidden warmth. Two workers on the beach loaded fallen branches and other debris into a tractor trailer while on the coast road little stirred apart the occasional car.

I had showered and dresssed, setting aside a jumper to put into my sports bag. Further back in the apartment I could hear the sound of my golfing partner getting into the shower and I felt the need to slide the patio doors almost closed to drink in those delights that  feasted my eyes, the stillness that pounded my ears and the taste of the salt on my lips that was carried on the chill wind.

 NOTE:  Now I know this is crap. I've read more interesting lines on the back of a toilet door so take my advice click close and go watch a kettle boil because from here its all down hill. 

The four of us had arrived three days earlier on an easyjet flight, there was a bank manager, two business men who ran quite successful businesses and myself  who made up our fourball. Having collected our bags we made our way to the 'tunnel' at malaga airport to wait on the courtesy bus to take us to the car rental company, can't remember the name began with an N, just at the first roundabout from the airport, (come on anyone who has hired a car at malaga airport will know the number of rental businesses along this block). Anyway about half an our later we emerged into the mayhem and chaos of spanish traffic in our white Peugeot partner car/van heading for my fist visit to Santa Clara golf with its magnificant club house, fantastic food, cold beer and what turned out to be a terrific course.