The pictures of baton-wielding police in Barcelona last weekend were rather shocking. And, naturally, they've proved counter-productive, providing what IberoSphere has called a shot in the arm for the flagging 'revolution'. As Guy Hedgecoe so aptly puts it - "The 15-M movement has been open to criticism that its aims are vague and ill-defined. But there’s nothing like a gang of armed meatheads in riot gear to stiffen resolve and create a common enemy."
Spain's secretary of State for Housing has said she expects the country's stock of 700,000 empty properties to be sold within 2 or 3 years. Well, she would wouldn't she. Many of those along the holiday coasts maybe. But the others - like the 20 or 30 near me - could well take 5 to 10 years to sell, in my opinion. Meanwhile, here's a pertinent article on the obstacles in the way of property disposals.
No sooner do I tell you about Galicia's Godello grape than Google Alerts throws up this article. It seems it is possible to get a bottle or two in the USA at least. Of course, it wouldn't be a wine column without nonsense like this - "The result is something that gives an initial impression of weight, then seems to lift off and hover in an almost ethereal way." I wonder where they find these people.
Google also alerted me to this article on the joys of walking one of our several Caminos. It inevitably contains a reference to the Sheen film "The Way".
As I walked into town this morning I wondered when I would bump into one of the waitresses who used to work in the now-closed Siglo bar I used to frequent every lunchtime. Sure enough, Teresa accosted me outside the postoffice, told me how handsome I was and said they had no idea why the place had closed or whether it would open up again. She added that she was looking for work but, since she had two years' dole money to sustain her, she wasn't too worried about finding any. No evidence of the Protestant work ethic there, then.
Finally . . . I mentioned the other day the examples of lack of consideration for others I'd seen in a carpark. What I forgot to cite was the pedestrian example later seen in the supermarket itself. Now, whenever I - and probably you - decide to park my trolley and go wandering off for something, I automatically place it out of the way. Unlike the sod who left his/hers right in the middle of a 'crossroads', forcing everyone coming from all four aisles to manoeuvre around it. At least they did until I'd unceremoniously shoved it down one of the aisles.