I’m pretty sure my mother doesn’t read my blog. Actually, I don’t think she knows what a blog is. Even so, this post is for her.
The photo was taken along the bridle path en route from the village. And it’s dedicated to my mother with gratitude that I didn’t inherit the family flower name.
I don’t think I’ve ever been to Warrington. And now I have less interest than ever in going there.
According to this story in the Telegraph, it appears that “No-kissing signs have appeared in the taxi rank at Warrington Bank Quay Station” and that lovers are being forced to use “designated areas only”.
It seems odd that a place in the UK should be adopting such measures when it’s only a couple of weeks since the BBC published a report beginning “A court in India has dismissed criminal proceedings against a married couple charged with obscenity for allegedly kissing in public in the capital.”
Continue reading “not all’s fair in love and Warrington”
It’s not often I get political in this blog – that’s not what it’s intended for. But yesterday I stopped for breakfast in the village and found myself watching Hugo Chávez proclaiming la victoria.
I can’t find a video of the exact part of the victory speech I was watching, but this will give an idea of the force of his presentation (warning! turn your volume down a bit if you don’t want to be deafened!).
(Note: I’ve replaced the video I had here originally as it seems to have disappeared off YouTube. This one is equally enthusiastic.)
As I watched, I suddenly realised I was sitting there with an inane grin on my face. Not so much because of the “victoria del sí“, but because the pure unadulterated enthusiasm of Comandante Chávez was infectious. And, of course what he said about it also being a victory for all those who had voted “no” was perfectly true.
Continue reading “politics with a smile”
The discussion among the women queuing in the corner shop this morning was all about what gifts their husbands had bought them, and how those who hadn’t would be suffering the consequences.
None of them had any intention of giving presents themselves –ya no estoy enamorada-, said one, and the luncheon meat, cheap frankfurters and processed cheese in her basket confirmed that she wasn’t planning to cook a special Valentine’s meal, either.
Continue reading “mid February”
Palm fronds spike
at mountain peaks
blurred by clouds and snow.
don't confuse the narrator 