Dawn

Dawn

Saturday, September 12, 2015

Spanglish; Sp. Tragedies: Paloma Faithless; British trash; A new cancer?; & Fotos of my first grandchild.

Spanglish: The Local believes these 10 English words have been not just taken aboard by the Spanish but improved on:-
  • Footing
  • Parking
  • Hacer Zapping
  • Crack
  • Gin-tonic
  • Esmoquin
  • Lifting
  • El face
  • El office
  • Quiqui

You'll have realised that 2 of these are not really English words. Explanations here.

Spanish tragedies: 1. The total of men/fools killed in bull-running this year has risen to 13; 2. There were 7 people killed at a motor rally in northern Spain last week, when a car left the road. I've often wondered why this doesn't happen more often, given that spectators stand so close to the tracks. There was an incident in Portugal a few years back when a guy was hit and then flew through the air, somersaulting 2 or 3 times. The Spanish media loves this sort of stuff and the news channel I was watching felt it necessary to show the incident 4 or 5 times in quick succession, to ensure we got every nuance of the fatal tragedy.

British singer, Paloma Faith, who has a Spanish father, recently performed in Gibraltar. The audience was less than pleased when her first words were: "Hola, España!". I hope she doesn't give up her day job.

One of the pluses of using a public hospital in the UK is that you witness the whole range of British society - from the wealthy, thin lefties who wouldn't be seen dead in a private hospital to the fat, ugly, tattooed white trash that features on TV programs on benefit fraud. I saw 2 males of the latter species when entering the Delivery Ward last night, dressed in baseball caps, leery shirts and trousers cut off at the calf. Them, not me. Anyway, I recalled I'd seen them a few minutes earlier, getting out of a car parked in a bay which had a sign saying, in large letters:- Reserved for Consultants on Emergency Call-out. I thought they were strangely dressed for consultants and wondered whether they were off on a fishing trip. But when I saw them on the ward, I felt disgusted and angered at their loutish and potentially dangerous behaviour. But then I realised the pair were probably illiterate and couldn't read the sign. There surely can't be any other explanation.

Incidentally, parking charges at the hospital were over a quid an hour, with a minimum of 3 quid. Happily, though, my son-in-law had been told of a wheeze with which you could get the barrier to rise without paying. So, I'd better not tell you which hospital it is. Unless you send cash.

Finally . . . According to one of the senior UK papers this morning, I'll soon be able to avail myself of a "£10 urine test for rostate cancer". As if I weren't worried enough about prostate cancer!

Finally, finally . . . I can't resist showing you these fotos of me and my first grandchild, Grace-Marie. I've been instructed to stop calling her Peanut. Which was the pre-birth nickname of an un-sexed foetus. And quite acceptable back then, an eon ago.


Our first kiss.


Me, testing the monkey-grip theory. It worked. But I refrained from lifting her up by one hand, as my daughter was watching.

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