This is the second post of the day. The first was yesterday's, delayed until early this morning.

Well, it took an awful long time coming – I suppose a few elections got in the way – but the Spanish Government has finally decided to face up to reality, admit the depth of the recession and lower its economic forecast. The previous estimate of a 1.6% fall in GDP for this year has been massively increased to 3.6%. And they’ve naturally warned us that more tax increases are on the way, having just addressed the usual suspects of higher cigarette and petrol levies.

Of course, the problem for the government is that it's a minority administration and so must get the support of smaller parties in order to get its budget approved. One of these, needless to say, is the Catalan nationalist party which is not at all happy either with the current model of regional finance or the proposed replacement that's been under discussion for some time. Spain doesn’t get any easier to govern when times are bad. Quite the opposite.

Here in Galicia, the metal workers of Vigo and Pontevedra have been operating wildcat strikes for some time now, in support of a demand for increased wages. You might question the wisdom of this in the teeth of a recession but the workers clearly believe they have a good case and are becoming increasingly violent in their campaign for its acceptance. I wonder if this is a augury of things to come. Especially as the government now admits that the recession – and its concomitant unemployment – won’t end until 2011. At the earliest. Interesting times.

But here, at least, is some good news. I think. . . “The Government is to change 47 laws to try and increase competition in the service sector in Spain. These are intended to reduce bureaucratic costs and liberalise several activities.” But will the Law of Unintended Consequences put in another appearance?

Limping down to Vegetables Square today for my midday Albariño and squid, I happened upon a carpet of flowers in the main square, prompting the realisation it was the feast of Corpus Christi today. Confirmation came in the form a short procession during my lunch, comprising a statue of Christ bleeding on the cross and a group of Galician bagpipe players, dressed in their uncomfortably heavy national dress. Given the heat, my heart went out to them. It was, by the way, a good thing I saw the flowers on the way down. Coming back, the kids were joyfully tossing handfulls into the air.

Earlier in the morning, I’d unwittingly caused two young women in the wifi café to almost jump out of their skin, when I switched on Spotify at full ballast without realising my earpiece wasn’t connected to my laptop. I very much doubt they’d heard Leadbelly wailing blues before, at any volume.

Finally . . . Problems with my ankle today reminded me of this old story of an exchange between a couple at a cocktail party:-
Him: I’m a little stiff from Badminton.
Her: I don’t care where you’re from, go away.
Or words to that effect.

Actually, my difficulty in putting the weight on the ankle gave me the opportunity to do something I’ve waited almost a lifetime for – to choose between the walking stick I bought in the Seychelles when I was 19 and the one I bought in Tehran when I was 26. How’s that for planning?

Back to the here and now, I’d rather hoped to bump into Pontevedra’s celebrated Draculín (Little Dracula) when crossing the bridge into town. He regularly sports an elegant cape and cane but, as these are purely an affectation, I’d planned to flourishingly trump him with my genuine need. But it was not to be. Mostly because I decided I couldn’t hack the long walk into town across the bridge and decided to drive in.