We said last week we would not find any pulp on vacation. We were wrong. Our girlfriends wanted to go house shopping because that’s their thing, even though none of us can afford to buy a house. On this occasion we were curious so we tagged along to check out this little hovel in the town center. It was in need of a total refit, but had good bones, as they say, as well as a roof terrace that killed. It had a kitchen from around, we’d wager, 1960, and as we stood there pondering how to shoehorn an oven and refrigerator into the place we looked down and noticed several boxes of Spanish language magazines and books. You can see them at right in the above photo. We bided our time until the real estate agent took our girlfriends upstairs, then we filled our pockets with as many books as we could realistically carry without looking like we’d actually stolen anything. You see three of the collection below, which we photographed later in the house where we were staying. Don’t let the floor scare you. It was a pretty nice place. Anyway, it just goes to show that pulp is everywhere, waiting to be ripped off by enterprising aficionados. We’ll take a closer look at our finds and post something soon.
