I
didn't sleep well last night and finally got up earlier than usual,
at 7.30. The (massive) compensation was the dawn coming up outside my
window. Here it is. Sadly, it lost some of its colour in the time it
took me to go downstairs and get my camera.
You
may not be aware – I certainly wasn't – that Spain owns 3 or 4
tiny islands off the North African coast, only a hundred metres or so
from Morocco. You'd wonder whether they're worth the trouble and if
Spain's exchequer wouldn't benefit from selling them. Especially when
'boat people' start arriving in droves and claiming benefits
traditionally accorded to those living on Spanish soil. So it'll be
interesting to see what happens over the next few days, weeks or
months. Will we again see Spanish troops landing in full military
gear and taking on the resident goats? By the way, I must stress that
the Spanish government doesn't regard these islands as colonies, not even
the one that's inhabited. But, as they're not 'enclaves' like Ceuta
and Melilla, I don't know what they are. I only know they're nothing
like Gibraltar and so don't belong to Morocco. I hope that's clear.
My
walk yesterday between the Health Centre and my preferred café took
me past one of Poio's three brothels, called Plan A. Interestingly,
this advertises itself as a Relax Lounge, showing how the
English word 'relax' has been hijacked by the (huge) Spanish
prostitution industry.
Even more interestingly, the shop next door
sell bikes, which these days cost big, big money. Wheels alone seem
to cost up to a thousand euros each. So it's rather more expensive to
get a ride in the bike shop than it is in the brothel.
My
drive back to the medical centre this morning took me past another of
the Poio brothels – Motel Venus. Here's a foto of it. As you can
see, there's a sign to an infant school in front of it. Only in Spain?
I
wonder if I'll ever get the word motorista
right. It meets 'motor cyclist' but my first thought is always
'car driver'. Maybe in another ten years.
So,
that genius of football, Sven Eriksson, has now joined a club in
Thailand, where they presumably don't read English newspapers. Where
next? Papua New Guinea? As if he'd care, given his humungous rewards
for failing everywhere else.
Years
and years ago, I used to jokingly predict that the AVE high speed
train wouldn't connect us with Madrid until 2018, against whatever
was the official prediction back then. Possibly 2010. Well, the
official prediction is now 2018 and I've given up trying to be funny
on this subject. The government is better at it than I am. So, pick
your own date.
The
other thing I've been saying for years is that the EU will eventually
collapse under the weight of its own internal incongruities. But, now
that this appears to be happening – long before anyone predicted –
I find myself not wanting it to happen. And believing that – so
vast would be the consequences - the EU governments must surely get
their act together and prevent it. But who really knows? Their track
record so far is hardly inspiring. No wonder the markets are
thoroughly confused. And, now that the summer is over, I guess we'll
be back on the roller-coaster. Or montaña-rusa, as they call
it here. Russian mountain. No idea why.
I
had a new experience as I was people-watching in the main square last
night. One of the endless stream of new 'performers' took exception
to my refusal to give him any money and called me a fascista de
mierda – or “effin' fascist”. He seemed surprised at my (obscene) response, probably because he thought I was guiri who didn't
understand him.
By
the way, I was people-watching in my pursuit of foto examples of
16/30s, 16/40s and 16/50s. As these are taken from the back, this had
necessitated me looking at the rears of numerous women. It's tough
work, but essential if science is to move forward. Results anon.
Finally
. . . Here's a pic of the frame for the canvas house I showed
the other day. As I said then, it was all constructed – in fine
taste – just to mask an eyesore.
Incidentally, our Alameda is again full of tents today. Well, marquees really. I guess they're something to do with the Spanish National Triathlon races this coming weekend. It never stops!
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