Enrique Del Val

I still remember my first soup. We were young, the football world cup was still to come, John and Pete were close mates, the world was a place more or less in peace.
I attended giving no notice because I wanted to annoy the hosts. Not much later, I tried it again bringing friends along to eat. I started arriving late, interrupting conversations and wearing t-shirts with pathetic slogans. Like the saucepan those originated from, the loving kindness and generosity of Sel and Mam seemed not to have limits.
From today to the day when you may have to go through slim chics in roller skates who talk to you about the latest trendy soft drink, to cross the door in Belvoire St, I would have liked to bless the Monday's dinner soups. But I've been told (and realized) that they already are.
I reckon Pako is looking forward enjoying their own bowl.