I love ironmongers shops in Spain. They are just like shops used to be. Some of them have their smaller wares arrayed in tall rows of wooden boxes behind the counter, rather like a Chinese pharmacy. And they will sell you just a single screw, if that is all you want. Mind you, you need plenty of time to shop there. Not only are they Dickensian in appearance but also in operation. They eschew computers [or even typewriters] and write down all your purchases in longhand – looking up each product reference as they go. If the person in front of you has had a shipping order, God help you.
 
Given that Spain can often appear to be a very irreligious country these days, it comes as something of a shock to read that the country’s archbishops have instructed all Catholic politicians to vote against the government’s attempts to be the third European country to permit gay marriages. Will it be the threat of excommunication next?
 
I’m pleased to report that the number of bawling brats at the jazz concerts has markedly diminished, though not to zero.
 
FilmWatch
Poolhall Junkies – The Last Play
Battle Cry – Beyond Tears
Sleepless in Seattle – Something to Remember.
 
As ever, I am lost for an explanation for these ‘translations’, other than someone’s need to keep a job. While we’re talking abut films, because of the universality of dubbing in Spain, the real voices of the actors are unknown here. When they accidentally hear them, Spaniards often profess to deep disappointment, as they ‘don’t fit’ the character they have come to love in her/her Spanish guise. George Clooney is said to have lost numerous nights of passion on this account. As, indeed, have I.