My calvario of household problems continues. I returned home after twelve last night to find my electricity off and a trip-switch stubbornly refusing to be untripped. By a process of elimination, I finally traced it to - of course - my recently-repaired computer. So here I am again in the cyber café, wrestling with a Spanish keyboard. The computer trips the main fuse as soon as it's connected to the system, even when switched off. I can only guess it's a short-circuit but, if this stems from a botched repair, I fear I'm never going to be able to prove it. Hey ho.

I wrote yesterday about the Gallego J/X/G/Kh. Well, I can scarcely believe this myself but, when checking on the price of a new tower en route to this this cyber café, I had this conversation:-
What does X mean in 'Memoria 1Xb RAM'?
Oh, it's in Gallego.
So, is it shigabyte or gigabyte?
Yea, khigabyte.

As you may be aware, Spanish women can be very demonstrative. And not only in private. On the way here, and within a couple of minutes or less, I witnessed two ladies dressing down their partners with such theatricality you'd have thought they were at a casting for a part in a South American soap opera. The first poor chap was in his 70s or 80s and proceeding slowly with the aid of stick. In inverse proportion to the speed of his wife's acid tongue.

Last night, though, I saw an even stranger street scene. As I walked down the hill towards the bridge, I first heard a crashing sound then saw a man and his scooter lying across the pavement a little bit further down the road. As I helped him get up, he murmured he was OK and then got back on his scooter and proceeded up the hill. But, from the pattern he was tracing, I guessed he was either deep in shock or unbelievably drunk. As it was 10pm, I tended towards the latter conclusion.

As mentioned, today is the Feira Franca or Medieval Fair here in Ponters. The last fiesta of the year. As my electricity problems naturally played havoc with my temperamental boiler, I considered going into town as an unshaven, unwashed peasant. But finally decided in favour of soft-soaping the boiler so that it would warm my water. So, if you see me there - among all the folk in fine costumes - at least I won't smell too bad.