I came across this monstrosity sitting in the local river this morning, and the word bulldozer wandered through my mind looking for something to connect with.
It reminded me of a transformer; a shape-shifting earth-shifter. I’m not sure what it was doing there other than looking slightly uncomfortable and as if someone had mistaken the nearly dry river bed for a parking space.
Continue reading “out of its element”
Where British Telecom users often say ‘Telecon’, Spanish customers of Telefónica refer to the company as ‘Timofónica’, and I suppose most other national telecommunications companies have similar nicknames.
Currently, I’m debating whether the situation is best described as tele-non-communication or being tele-incomunicada.
A fortnight ago, the router was destroyed by a mains glitch during a storm. Well, we weren’t actually here when it happened, but that seems the likely explanation as some hundred routers round the village needed replacing.
Then we had high winds and the internet connection kept waxing and waning and eventually the phone line died completely.
Continue reading “be careful what you wish for”
I went to a modern art exhibition last week and was much taken with this sign that was placed underneath one of the sculptures, a strange mixed-media contraption standing on sand.
In the same way, the first time I went to the Retiro in Madrid and saw the signs saying No pisar el cesped I did a double take. I imagined there were probably public toilets in Spanish parks, so why did they think I’d be tempted to go on the grass? It would have made more sense if it had said “don’t let your dog piss (or otherwise) on the grass”, but that seemed not to bother them in the least.
Continue reading “a wee warning”
This juxtaposition of signs caught my eye:
Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.
Back in Spain after what seems to have been a long absence, I find the village half in fiestas. 
There appear to be other ‘cultural activities’, too, such as those advertised on the poster in the photo: Miss Camiseta Mojada – ‘Miss Wet Tee-shirt’ – is about the level of finesse I would expect for village fiestas, but I can’t decide whether Mister Paquete Mojado strikes a new low for culture or a new high for equality.
I guess it would probably be better if I don’t start wondering too deeply about the chupitos eróticos or the invitation to “come and ride our mechanical bull”.
don't confuse the narrator 