I wrote a piece a couple of weeks back, before I headed off to Rioja, basically saying that I felt like a complete idiot that I didn’t at least speak a few phrases of Spanish and that it was next on the language bucket list. Especially for a wine-o.
The frustrated words of the immortal Ron Burgundy. Something I’ve been uttering to myself as I sat on the train down to Gatwick on Sunday morning. I was off to Rioja for the first time in my life and wondering just how stupid I’d be feeling over the next few days. I’ve never learned to …
Don’t Be Silly Baxter, You Know I Can’t Speak Spanish Read More »
