I get the impression that Google searches work in much the same way as the Mornington Crescent game: there you are, following links, jumping all over the place and never quite sure where you’ll end up next, and then, suddenly, you find you’ve landed up where you intended.
I didn’t know the Baptists were so self-condfident, but it looks as if this church is sure its congregation is safe from Hell fire – click and see the full-size image to read the text on the wall alongside.
From the print edition of today’s Público newspaper, a double page spread on mixed nationality marriage; an assortment of news and commentary.
The left hand page is dedicated to the story that eight European states have agreed to make divorce easier with a new law that gives parejas mixtas the right to choose which law should be applied when they split up. It seems that there are 170,000 divorces between these so-called mixed couples in the EU each year, which is around 20% of the total number of divorces. Continue reading “mixed marriages”
I don’t usually stop and talk to anyone on my daily walk to the village. It’s just a quick visit to correos to check for mail (9 times out of 10 there isn’t any) and straight back, working up a sweat.
There are maybe half a dozen old guys I see regularly, but we simply mumble un saludo and keep going. And there’s one vieja who does a short walk, all on the flat, as far as the polideportivo, and I might exchange a few words with her.
A story on the BBC website this morning – Councils ‘unprepared’ for elderly – has me a little worried. Not simply because most English councils are unprepared for the impact of a rapidly aging population, though that in itself is cause for concern.
Firstly, the phrase “rapidly ageing population” makes me do a double take. Surely we are all getting older at the same rate – taking it a day at a time? What steps can I take to I avoid being one of those who is ageing more rapidly? Continue reading “old wounds”
Earlier in the year, I’d washed some jeans and hug them outside to dry. I didn’t notice anything odd when I got them in that night, nor when I gathered them up un-ironed the next morning and pulled them on after my shower. But when I’d got them on, I realised I must have left a hanky in the pocket, so put my hand in to get it out.