Perre(r)a to the left in Madrid

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I had planned to go to La Tropi on Saturday because he had told me that Rita Maestre likes to dog there a lot. But I had been wearing francachela since Wednesday and the body asked me for a bed and Permafrost to be able to face this electoral journey on Sunday. When I opened my eye my friends were coming home (after the Tropi there was bingo and to know what else). "In the Tropi was Alejandra Jacinto," one wrote to me. And I disarmed because I would have wanted him to invade "my personal space" as he did with and

l of

in the Telemadrid debate.

Many of the voters who went to vote in the schools of the Salamanca neighborhood had passed under the shameful (and ineffective by the looks of it) canvas on Ayuso's brother. And it didn't matter because in the queues of voters who formed in front of the polls, it was enough to snap your fingers for everyone to start with the win.

However, the day had not risen propitious to vote but to stay on the sofa, something that worried Ayuso herself. Therefore, the auditor of the PP of Beatriz Galindo seemed nervous because at 9.30 there had been almost no influx. "Although here people go to mass of 12 or 13 and then vote."

She was an old lady who did not think about the time of the aperitif or getting up late just because, for the perreo de la Tropi or the perreo de la tropa. The rain gave truce but it stopped in the afternoon. People pulled the fachaleco and threw the sweater on the ovens. The smell of wet wool (cashmere in few cases) comforted a dull time and without certainties. There were many who took the ballot of Ayuso and Almeida for the first time. And voxeros in his 13 in Chamartin. and unredeemed socialists. Like those of Más Madrid. (De Podemos apenás encontré...). At one o'clock the regulars came to the Cantabrian Sea to eat fresh seafood at a logical price. The restaurants had been overflowing for two weeks.

The right-wing voter had his plan done. It didn't matter the order of the factors. Vote and mass or table and vote. Cafelito or copazo (in Mallorca the saladitos were exhausted) and to wait for the Israelites as if they were the pharaoh when the Red Sea was closed. (And we don't say this because of what the polls predicted of Ayuso's victory.)

Then some nervousness began: photos of a lady with a wad of PSOE ballots; "The one who votes for you

» to

; the Francoist scooter and that sour taste of uncertainty. Although everyone, sensed what finally happened. Although... No wonder Alejandra Jacinto, who got up at a reasonable hour to vote with the vermouth

, was perreando on Saturday in the Tropi. That they take away the danced.