Thinking it was Ladies' Day at
Aintree today, I went into Liverpool, hoping to see some splendid
sartorial sights on the underground train. But there weren't any,
leaving me thinking there was a mistake somewhere. However, I was
delighted to see international food stalls in the middle of the
city's main shopping street and I stopped at the Toritos stand
to chat with the Barcelona guy offering Catalan Chicken. He and his
wife take the stall all over the country but, nonetheless, choose to
live in Wigan. It takes all sorts.
How come women always know that
you're looking at them, however obliquely? Is it perhaps because they're, by
definition, attractive and so expect to be looked at and keep an eye
open for it? Attractive women please comment. And add your email
address.
Today sees the publication in Spain
of a book which claims that the Spanish King was not only aware in
advance of the abortive 1981 plot to replace the then President by a
government fronted by the military but also very much part of the
plot himself. Which is a tad shocking as, to date, he's been credited
with heroically foiling the coup. It's been a bad year or two for the
ageing monarch but this will surely strengthen demands for his
abdication. More here from David Jackson.
Another Spanish leader in the
news is Madrid's Catholic Archbishop Rouco. Never one for being
backward at making backward utterances, this time he's used the
funeral of an ex-President to claim that Spain could be facing
another Civil War. Not content with that, he also dropped some
anti-Catalan remarks. Politicians of all stamps are up in arms. Or
they would be if this weren't an inappropriate metaphor. I rather
liked the comment of Cataluña’s religious group Església
Plural, which labelled
Rouco "fanatically evil for trying to justify through religion
the use of all available measures to defend the 'sacred' unity of
Spain."
Talking of religion . . . One advantage of staying
in a house which has accommodated the complete range of Catholics is
that you come across amusing things like this: His Holiness Leo
XIII, at an audience on December 13 1898 with the Prefect of the
Congregation of Indulgences and Relics, made known that he grants to
all the faithful who shall have devoutly read the Scriptures for at
least a quarter of an hour an indulgence of 300 days. It's a fascinating thought that God measures
Purgatory punishment times in terrestrial terms and not those which
have sufficed Him over the billions of years since the Big Bang, and
whatever went before it. Perhaps there's a
big countdown clock there, making the faithful more comfortable by
showing them the passage of time in units they're used to.
Still on religion: The Daily Telegraph is
rather sceptical of the claim that real Holy Grail has turned up in
Spain. It notes that "The cathedral authorities who are
thinking of building a larger exhibition space to accommodate the
floods of credulous pilgrims coming to see the “Grail” must
really believe it is the cup used by Christ at the Last Supper, and
the last thing they want is to amass the sort of cash that is raked
in each year at Fatima or Lourdes." Amen to that, I say.
Finally . . . My friend Anthea, writing from
Vigo, says that one of the things that upset her is men spitting on
the floor. As I do, she remembers sign on the buses asking people not
to do this. This put me in mind of a limerick that runs:-
There once was a man from Darjeeling
Who went on a bus trip to Ealing.
It said on the door
'Don't spit on the floor'.
So he lay down and spat on the ceiling.
There once was a man from Darjeeling
Who went on a bus trip to Ealing.
It said on the door
'Don't spit on the floor'.
So he lay down and spat on the ceiling.
Thank-you and Goodnight, Eileen.
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