The
Diario de Pontevedra reported the other day that “Sardines
have abandoned the ría(estuary).”
Which, I guess, is a nicer way of saying “Rapacious local fishermen
have completely fished out the ría and there isn't a single bloody sardine left.”
Yesterday
I was reading in a cafe, next to a table of four twenty-somethings.
Three of them were talking at the level which is normal for
Spain. Loud. But the fourth, a woman, could only converse by
shouting. And her 90 decibel laughter could have stripped paint. I
gave her a few good British stares but to no effect. Today, I'm
taking my coffee in the only place in town without a blaring TV or
three. It's a bit more popular than it used to be but the average age
is well above 50. So the level of noise is quite low, even though
most of the women are talking all at the same time.
All that said, a gathering of nine of them has amassed behind my back
and the aggregate hubbub is quite something. They've even forced me
to move my table and chair. They might have apologised but I have my
ear-phones on.
Any
lovers of snails should get themselves down to the local village of
Santa María de Sacos next Sunday, where there's a gastronomic
fiesta. And, yes, she is called Saint Mary of the Sacks. Or Bags. No
idea why. Given how many Marys and Virgins there are in Spain, I
guess it's hard to be different.
Today
was the anniversary of the birth of Daniel Defoe, in 1660. The Voz
de Galicia tells us there was a Galician sailor connection with
the writing of his 'Robinson Crusoe'. And gave us 3 options to guess
at:- 1. A surname, 2. The first US edition, and 3. Information about
the island. My recollection is that Defoe based his story on the
experiences of a sailor marooned on an island off South America. So
I'm going with option 3. Which would be wrong, as I've just checked
and found the sailor was Scottish. So now I'm foxed.
There
isn't a public parking place in town now where you're not 'guided'
into the space by, effectively, a tramp. One swallow doesn't make a
summer but I might well have seen a change for the better today. A
driver was being pointed into a slot by a young woman in an elegant
mac and F-me boots. She probably gets more than the normal 50 cents.
Poor
Mrs Merkel. She turned up in Athens in the same green jacket she'd
worn for the European Cup match between Germany and Greece. Which
Greece lost, of course.Was she rubbing it in? Or was she badly
advised? Or just slipshod.
Am
I in danger of getting inured to the reports of corruption? Today we
learned that the Dean of the Medical School of the University of País
Vasco has been accused of diverting funds his way. And someone has
told me the President of the Galician Xunta has been revealed to have
authorised payments of more than a million euros to a company owned
by his sister. Though this may only be a scurrilous – but plausible
– rumour ahead of the regional elections on 21 October.
Here's
a surprise – Brussels says Spain is amongst the slowest EU members
for implementing judgements against them. I wonder if she's yet paid
the huge fines imposed after the outrageous flax scandal of
1999.
Finally
. . . My ultimate bit of proselytising – For those of you who went
to the Arthur Alexander link and enjoyed what you heard, here he is
singing one of my great favourites – Willie Nelson's plaintive
number Ain't
it Funny How Time Slips Away.
And here's Elvis delivering what I see as an inferior version.
Enjoy. Especially the one with the wonderful piano backing.
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