El
Gordo
is Spain's annual Xmas lottery, offering total prize money in the
billions of euros. As the government strives to raise tax revenue
from every conceivable source, this year will be the last when winners get their cash tax-free. As of January, there'll be a 20%
deduction and this will quickly hit the next big draw, El
Niño, on January 6th.
Another
unusual source of government revenue will be payment for 'non urgent'
ambulance journeys. As with (the new) prescription charges, what you
pay will be linked to your income and one wonders how it will all be
calculated. And when. Will the paramedics have a credit card machine at the door?
If so, it will surely call for ID and the signing of a
chit. Even if you have a broken hand.
This
time of year sees an influx of cars to our street, as my neighbours'
relatives arrive for the five huge meals of the next week or two. Or
at least for those on the 24th
and the 25th.
Which means I can't find any space to park, even though my
frontage – as it were – is larger than most. Especially when
inconsiderate bastards leave 2 to 3 metres between themselves and the
cars in front and behind them,
My
friend Jon has told me of a beggar with an interesting USP – “I
am Spanish
and still on the street.” Jon was sufficiently impressed to cough
up.
I've
ben re-visiting the Frasier comedy series. I'd (almost) forgotten how
beautifully they were constructed and how witty and funny they were.
Perhaps only Lee Mac'ks Not Going Out in the UK matches them for
the laugh quotient. But other nominations would be well received.
Talking of TV, tonight saw the final of the BBC's hugely – and justifiably – popular Strictly Come Dancing. As I write, I don't know the winners but I do know it's been the best series I've seen. And I know – but can't quite believe - I've just applauded a dance in my own salón. On my own . . .
Talking of TV, tonight saw the final of the BBC's hugely – and justifiably – popular Strictly Come Dancing. As I write, I don't know the winners but I do know it's been the best series I've seen. And I know – but can't quite believe - I've just applauded a dance in my own salón. On my own . . .
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