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The vision of Spain imagined here is the land of bullfighting posters, souvenir castanets and straw donkeys brought back home by the first wave of British package tourists. Hola 1962 – roughly the
year in which this heroically unreconstructed curio first set up shop in an alley just off Oxford Street. Swig bottles of Mahou, Cruzcampo and Estrella Damm – or draught Sam Miguel – while soaking
up the sounds of The Beatles and The Supremes on the vintage jukebox, or glug Spanish house wine from a retro £12.50 a bottle. Otherwise order something classier such as Rioja, cava or a tequila
sangrita shooter. To eat, there are nuts, crisp and pork scratchings; to admire, there’s a scruffy, shambolic interior whose decor was last in vogue when General Franco’s mother was a señorita. And
that’s just how its fans like it.
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