Scruffy Murphy's

Final stop of our first night in Benalmadena was Irish bar Scruffy Murphy's. The effect of the jet lag (!!) and a few pints of Spanish beer mean that I have a fairly sketchy recollection of this bar. From memory I was drinking Estrella and Shelley was on Irish cider Magners, not one of her favourites so I'm not sure why she was grinning so broadly in this snap..

Time was getting on and the girl who was single handedly running the bar was packing up for the night. The task seemed quite an onerous one which included moving a forty two inch screen television.

Any plans I'd got for eating sensibly during our trip disappeared in an instant when I noticed that Istambul (sic) Donner Kebab Restaurant was a new welcome addition to the Benalmadena culinary choices so I finished off the night with the classic dish of Donner and chips.

Well, when I say finish the night off, the drama didn't quite end there. The combination of San Miguel, Estrella and lack of coordination meant that I was unable to open the door to our hotel room and I had to shamefacedly seek assistance from el security guard !!

UPDATE 24th May

We made a return visit to Scruffy Murphy's after watching the UEFA Champions League final at The Swan in Benalmeadena's Bonanza Square. The ten minute walk between the two pubs was an eventful one. The sky was lit up by fireworks presumably from jubilant Real Madrid fans, and we witnessed the bizarre sight, when we passed our hotel, of a young woman, who presumably had spent a long time at the hotel's all inclusive bar, rolling down what is known by holiday makers as Cardiac Hill. I took a photo of the hill later in our holiday for reference...

The post match celebrations from Lisbon, where the final had taken place, were being shown on the bar's television screens with confident forward Ronaldo behaving as though he had single handedly won the trophy.

We ordered our drinks (Guinness for me, Strongbow for my significant other) and took our seats.

The pub had emptied following the football. There was a lively debate on a table by us regarding Scottish independence with the red headed Glaswegian Irn Bru drinking gentleman at the heart of the debate being very much in the Yes camp.

We finished off our drinks to the sounds of Iggy Pop's Passenger and got ready for the walk back up Cardiac Hill to our hotel via the Istambul Kebab House, where Shelley, fresh from predicting the correct score in the match, was now predicting a seventh round win for Carl Froch in the big fight a few days later.