Don Day and Don Day’s Wife were in Cent’Anni’s wine bar early on Thursday night. It was 7:30 pm and there were a grand total of two of us in a San Miguel restaurant that probably holds well over a hundred. The decor dangerously uses white and beige...
Don Day only lived in France for a short time. But it was enough time for a long romance. The object of Don Day’s deep affection was called Madiran. Every Sunday, Don Day and the rest of the escapees from the asylum (what the locals called the expats) would host...
In all of the years I’ve been writing Don Day in SMA, I’ve never re-posted a blog. Until today. And not just because I’m feeling lazy (but, yes, that did play a part). I’ve been reading a lot about ice cream in San Miguel de Allende lately. I...
I never quite understood Julie Andrews. When the dog barks or when the bee stings…neither does a thing for Don Day. Since the days when I was knee high to a chapuline, Don Day’s favorite things have always been wine, women and song. And, even more so, if...
Oh my God! I’d become my mother-in-law! I should have known it was coming. Why did I use doilies when I served the guys’ sausage lunch last week? Why in hell’s name had I bought those patchwork shorts at La Pulga? Why had I suddenly started listening...
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