Good morning. Do you mind if I ask you a question?
No, not at all.
Well, there’s the word ‘Circunvalación’ engraved in the pavement outside and I wondered if you knew what it meant.
I think it means that you have to go that way to get to the ring road.
But there’s no way through.
So, doesn’t that strike you as a bit strange?
Hombre, after many years in this town, nothing strikes me as strange!
And talking of Spanish experiences . . . My pupil was 15 minutes late today. Her comment – “It’s turned very cold, hasn’t it?”. In truth, she was two hours early. Or would have been if – Ha! – she’d turned up on time. This was because her mother had ‘something in town’ (again) and wanted me to change the day. We compromised on the hour. In
, we all live in the here and now. It doesn’t do to agree that someone can come tomorrow. Especially when money hinges on it. For tomorrow I may be myself with yesterday's seven thousand years. Spain
Since this is supposed to be Pix from Galicia, here’s one of my friend Jason pollarding one of my oak trees up in the hills. And giving me a view of a distant industrial park that I didn’t really want. Especially as my ex in-laws live next to it . . .
And here's a quiz foto. A big prize for the first person to (genuinely) guess the origin of the name (Jaqueyvi) of this fashionable tapas bar down in Ponters' old quarter:-
Finally . . . Another paragraph (this time from Paul Krugman) in which you can insert ‘Spanish’ in place of ‘Irish’ and still leave it making complete sense:- The Irish story began with a genuine economic miracle. But eventually this gave way to a speculative frenzy driven by runaway banks and real estate developers, all in a cozy relationship with leading politicians. I would blame it on the boogey but prefer to blame it on the
. Who've now added insult to injury my making Ireland their second satrapy. Portugal next. And then . . . . ? The deluge? Get your Ark ready. Or at least your Chaucerian bath. Brussels