Elderly men.

In the block of appartements opposite me, there is an old man that is always sitting on his balcony. Always. Whatever time, whatever weather he is always sitting there contemplating. Sitting at my computer I've just caught him snipping his leg hair with scissors.  I promise. He's still at it now. Onto the thighs. I can actually hear the snipping from here. If he was an immaculate looking grandad, it would not shock me so much, but he really is not. I've never seen him wear anything different than his white teacher with stains and blue shorts. This is really too funny. He's onto his second leg now.

Talking of old men. This afternoon I had a drink at the oldest tapas bar in Seville, El Rinconcillo. It was stunning, covered in mosaics and jamon hanging  off the ceiling. But it seems I also met one of the oldest man in Seville. I sat down and he came towards me and gave me a note and went to sit back down. It read:

Esta vestida de gues como las perlas es muy bonito y tiene una cara tan bella como los jardines de mi Sevilla. Besos Valentino. 

I promise he was about 90. Minimum. I didn't really know what to think or how to react. I said gracias...

About 10 minutes later he comes back and asks what my name is and goes back and sits down. Then he drops me another note saying:

Se llama Alicia igual que la del pais de las Maravillas por eso Alicia es tan bella y bonita. Besos Valentino. 

He had made a flower using paper and attached a (real) leaf.

To make everything more awkward, we were the only two people in the bar. As well as the barman who was loving the whole situation.