… home’s best.
After nearly a month of travelling and living out of a suitcase, I am back in the pueblo in Spain. It’s gloriously sunny, there are huge drifts of leaves, snow on the mountains, cats on the verandah…
Thanks to Randall Munroe at xkcd for his thoughts on the relativity of east and west.
Winding road; the moon
plays peek-a-boo
behind the mountains
In the summer, the untended land here is mostly too dry for weeds and no lawn can survive without almost daily watering. The neighbour moves his grand-daughter’s shetland pony around between the various empty gardens and fields, and she may not be in one place for more than a couple of days, depending on the grazing.
We’ve had rain now – torrential thunderstorms and strong winds – but not enough sun to bring the weeds on again, though no doubt they’ll be knee high again in a week or so.
Continue reading “a for apple”
I’ve been thinking again about translating poetry, partly because it’s a pet subject of mine, and partly because I’m hoping to run a course on the subject next year and have been preparing the course spec.
One of the recurring questions is “when does a translation cease to be a translation and become a derivative work?”.
Continue reading “on translating poetry”
It’s not just the bread and cake shops that confuse me in Spain. There’s a-whole-nother area of shop difficulties associated with chemist shops and drug stores.
In the UK we have chemists. Inside a chemist shop you’ll find the pharmacy counter where you can buy your medicines – or, hopefully, in the near future get your prescription made up free of charge. You’ll also usually find a photographic department, perhaps an optician, even, maybe, a wine-making area. Continue reading “de tiendas II”
don't confuse the narrator 