The Card Game

Ken McRae

The Card Game by Ken McRae

Years ago, my wife and I went on a holiday on the Spanish Island of Tenerife. We chose Puerto de la Cruz and we opted for September when we knew it would not be so hot.

On the first Sunday, it was quiet. The sun was shining. It was very hot even for September. We decided to have a stroll down to the harbour a short distance away from the hotel, so as to catch the cool breeze off the sea. By the time we reached the harbour we were feeling in the need of something to drink. We knew there was a small caravan sited on a piece of ground at the harbour that sold cold drinks, including local beer. His cans were cheaper as it was a popular "howf" with the locals too.

I purchased two cans of orange juice and two straws. We sat down at a table to enjoy our refreshing drink. As we sipped our juice we watched the folk stroll by. I also observed several local men, about eight of them, sitting at a round table playing cards. An old umbrella partially shaded the table and some of the players. Apart from noticing the men playing cards, I could see that the umbrella was not perfect. It was open, but the cover was torn half way up one side and several of the spines were poking through the material due to them coming loose from the bottom edge.

As the game progressed loud voices were to be heard getting rather heated. This is not unusual where several Spaniards congregate together. We did not at that time take any notice. We continued drinking our juice and enjoying the sunshine.

As the game progressed the voices got louder and louder. All of a sudden there was a helluva commotion at the card table. I looked over to see what the racket was about. The table had fallen to one side. One of the umbrella spines was just about to poke into the eye of one of the men. He had managed to grab the pole of the umbrella and push the table and umbrella back to their upright position.

There were two main contenders in the slagging match. One was about 45 years old, tubby and had a stub of a fat cigar in his mouth. This remained in his mouth during the argument with his opponent across the table. He was an older man by a few years. He was taller and had a full beard going grey. Both men were by now on their feet. Angry words were being spar back and forth across the table. The other men round the table raised a voice now and again but 'cigar' and 'beardie' were the main contenders in this battle of words.

We sat and watched the scene and started to laugh, softly. Where we were sitting we were unnoticed by the card players. Bemused by the scene, I said to my wife "I wonder whit they're on aboot?"

She replied, "Who knows? Ah'd like tae ken whit they're sayin."

Never one to resist a challenge, I said, "How aboot this?" I cannot speak Spanish so I gave her my interpretation of the argument in Scots.

"Ye fuzzy faced git, ah seen ye take that caird fae the bottom o' the pack," said Cigar.

"Yer a bloody leear. Yer Just mad 'cause ye loast," replied Beardie.

Cigar got up suddenly. His chair fell over with a clatter. Chomping on his cigar stump, his face screwed up in rage, he leaned over the table and shouted his reply. "If ah come roond tae ye, ah'll plank ye one, so ah wull, ye great hairy faced nyaff ye."

At this insult, Beardie took offence. He stood up suddenly and his chair toppled over. "Oh aye, you an whaes army? Ah'd like tae see ye try, ye fat slob."

Cigar, inflamed by the taunt, made to go round and carry out his threat. But two "knight's" of the round table restrain him saying. "Ach! Dinna listen tae him. He's no' worth it. It's only ten pesetas. We'el gie ye it," they offered.

Cigar shrugged them off, "Ah'm no wantin yer flaming money. He cheated an ye ken he did, so he sould pey up." He stomped up to Beardie cursing and swearing. (I think) jabbed him in the chest with a finger and shouted loudly. "Ye cheated me oot o' ten pesetas, ya twister."

Beardie jabbed Cigar in retaliation, raised his voice and said, "The hell I did." (is hell a Spanish swearie word?) in his best John Wayne drawl. "Prove it, yer juist a bad loser. If ye canny lose without greetin aboot it, ye shoulenae play, and yer no' getting ony money oota me, ah won it fair an square."

Cigar, at a loss for words, about turned and stalked away, hands deep in his pockets, puffing on his cigar.

Beardie took a packet of cigarettes from out his pocket and removed one. He fidgets about trying to find matches or lighter without success. He ran after Cigar who turned to face him in a defensive position.

"Gie's a light," said Beardie. Cigar, taken aback, removed his cigar from his mouth and without a word proffered it to Beardie who coolly lit his cigarette from it, said 'ta' and walked away. The Cigar looked at his retreating back and shouted "Yer still a lyin cheat," Beardie ignored him.

After much hawking, spitting and scratching the front of their legs, (a Spanish male pastime) all the men including Beardie and Cigar, lifted the table, the chairs, the damaged umbrella cover and move into a shaded area next to the drinks "howff."

When my wife and I left the scene about five minutes later, another card game was in full swing. Angry words as well as cards were again being dealt across the round table.

We've often wondered how THAT game ended.