It’s been a while since I mentioned poets and narrators on the blog, but Google has prompted me to return to this hobby horse of mine as it seems that the ad selector is just as likely as the novice reader to confuse the writer with the narrator of a poem.
I’ve been looking through some old emails and found one a friend sent me a while back with a poem in it for me to comment on. The poem contained the phrase “slipped disc”.
Continue reading “back to the narrator”
This headline has caught my attention:
Whether it was in any way connected with Global Handwashing Day, which fell a few days ago, I don’t know.
It was of course the use of the verb “ring” that caught my eye. I’m pretty sure that even in American English that should be “wring”.
Actually, there was far more to set me thinking in the article, which started off:
Continue reading “it rings a bell”
The town motto of Arenas de San Pedro is siempre incendiada, y siempre fiel (“always aflame and always faithful”). The coat of arms is a picture of the castle in flames, surprisingly reminiscent of card sixteen – the Tower – in many tarot decks.
The fireworks at the Arenas fiestas are always set off from inside the castle, which provides a lovely backdrop and such wonderfully appropriate images as this:
(This time the pink hues are not due to problems with my camera.)
The main car park area by the river is given over to candyfloss and hotdog stands, the usual stalls selling tat, a bouncy castle or two and a few traditional funfair rides.
It’s all pretty run of the mill stuff. There are dodgem (bumper?) cars in two sizes, a couple of Torito Salvaje rides and a Canguro Loco. (I guess the first is a Spanish equivalent of a bucking bronco ride for kids, and the Krazy Kangaroo is a fairly standard kind of octopus ride.) Then, of course, there’s a carousel with painted horses and other fantasy creatures.
But one thing I don’t think you’ll see in the UK is the pony carousel. (The Spanish use the word pony to refer to shetland ponies.)
Continue reading “roundabout they go”
We went to Mombeltrán for lunch the other day and I stopped to snap a picture of the “autumn colours” on the local mountains.
We hadn’t been that way for a few months, and it was shocking to think that the fire this summer had come that close to the town and destroyed so many of the pines.
Continue reading “…as the year grows old”
don't confuse the narrator 