on holiday

Last weekend, the pueblo celebrated the fiestas of the local Virgin. (Not the summer fiestas – those were at the end of August, and not the fiestas for the patron saint – that’s next month: the Spanish are always happy to take days off work and chase bulls through the streets or set off firecrackers.)

Fireworks, Arenas de San Pedro, fiestas de la Virgen del Pilar
Now there is a lull in the village as the locals close up their shops to go and join the vendimia or take advantage of end-of-season offers to take their own holidays.
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a point to writing

pen nibs

I was surprised this week to be told by the WordPress robots that I registered this blog six years ago. (If they are right, I must have fudged some dates at the beginning as the first post is dated 23rd April 2007.)

During those six years I’ve written over 750 posts. Some have featured photos and very little text, but some have straggled on well beyond the 500 words that I think is a good maximum length for a blog post. This means there’s probably enough text in this blog for three full-length novels – one written every couple of years – without any great effort on my part.
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thinking

Once again, the poetry cogs in my brain don’t seem to be turning very fast.

sand dredger machinery close up
I wish I could believe that even when being unproductive my mind was as beautiful and as full of potential as the machinery in the photo.

old poetry

It’s a bit disheartening to go away for a few days hoping to find new ideas only to realise that you have already written poems that correspond to almost everything you see. Sadly, that was what happened to me this week. Then again, it gives me an excuse to re-visit some older pieces.

seagulls
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still no ideas

And, while I do have some glorious flowers on my table, sadly, there’s not a pensamiento to be found among them:

poppies in a vase