Short Story for the Holidays

I'm off on my holidays. I'm planning to visit Deia where the famous poet and writer Robert Graves lived for years and it was a magnet for artists from all over. Now I can find no reference to any poetic goings on so I may recite to a bewildered cafe of tourists. German tourists probably. No matter.

Note to bad people: there is a tall, manly man living in my house while I'm away.

Meanwhile, you can read a review of my short story Saturday's Kiss here. And there's a link to the original story at the end.