The
euro (as opposed to the euros, which is something else):
Nice to be reminded today of the old metaphor of the euro as a
bicycle - You
have to keep peddling, because it's not stable. As soon as you stop,
you either fall off, or slide back down the hill. This
is what's happening now. Essentially because Mrs Merkel is keeping
the brakes on.
Spanish
politicians: Last night the Deputy PM insisted there was
absolutamente no chance of Spain seeking a bailout. This
evening the news is that they will. Which should come as no surprise
to anyone other than the Deputy PM.
I
spent a good 45 minutes this morning trying to get on line to my bank
in Pontevedra. This involved going through the security process at
least 20 times. On the one hand this suggests others would find it
hard to get into my account. On the other, it was a bit bewildering that
the site kept rejecting input data it had accepted previously.
The
reason for going online was to cancel a debit for insurance on the
house I used to have in the hills. I had actually been trying to do
this since mid May. But complications had arisen because:- 1.
Although the payments went through my bank, the policy was in the
name of my ex-partner. And 2. We took out the insurance, not
directly, but through an agent in town. I won't bore you with more
details but I had visited this chap twice in May, finding him amiable
but hamstrung. Essentially, he needed to talk to my ex partner face
to face. Which would be a tad difficult, as she now lives in France.
However, she did get to talk to him cara a cara at the end of
the month, only to be told it was too late as the payment was going
through on 1st. June. Which it did. So, now I'm trying to get it
cancelled. I've now done that on line but, this being Spain, I will follow up by calling my bank on Monday. Spain is a wonderful but
different place and one can sometimes find oneself wondering what
century you're living in.
While
I was typing the last paragraph, a pop-up advised me I hadn't been
active on my bank's site for 5 minutes and asking me if I wanted to
stay online. When I clicked Yes, another pop-up immediately told me my
connection had been ended. See what I mean?
I
see the film Krakatoa East of Java is on the TV again. A
chance for me to say once again that Krakatoa was west of
Java, as is its descendant Anak Krakatoa, or Son of Krakatoa.
I
put a glass of wine on the floor near my feet last night. And I
decided to tip the cayenne pepper into my Bolognese sauce directly from the jar, rather
than spoon it it. You know the rest.
I
can't for the life of me understand the BBC's policy on the F word.
It was bleeped out last night when the chairman of a panel game used
fuck off as part of a scripted retort. And it's bleeped out
every time it's used in the late night Family Guy program.
Indeed, in this show they even blot out cartoon breasts and
penises! But a few nights ago I had to sit through the recitation of
a poem which seemed to consist of the expression fuck off
delivered twenty seven times.
So,
the Euros. Holland: 28 shots at goal; only 8 on target; no goals.
Denmark: 6 shots at goal; all 6 on target; one goal. My observation
was that Holland had given up kicking opposition players but hadn't
yet mastered the art of kicking the ball. They can only get better.
Finally
. . . My owl. It's so big that every time I go into my bedroom I
think my daughter's cat is sitting on the table there. I do hope it
puts the fear of God into the pigeons.
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