Beatriz, not Biarritz

When we went to the Melbourne Cup thing I ended up talking to a very nice young man about biscuits (these are the sorts of wild nights we've been having). I was telling him about some very nice biscuits I'd had from a shop in the Calle Estafeta, and he one-upped me by rhapsodising about some really, really nice biscuits he'd had in Biarritz. Or so I thought. I'd had a couple of beers, and it was quite noisy in the pub and these old ears are not what they were. Eventually I worked out that the nice young man wasn't talking about Biarritz, the city in France. He was talking about Beatriz, the same biscuit shop I was talking about. The conversation went around in circles for quite some time before we realised we were talking about the same biscuit shop. Oh, how we laughed.

But Beatriz is officially the Happiest Place on Earth.

 

That box of biscuits lasted about three days. Three days of blissful, sugary semi-diabetic near coma. My next post will be about zombies, I'm just trying to work up the nerve to look at the photos again. For now, though, happy thoughts of biscuits.