Well, both Everton and Pontevedra FC started the season in the same pathetic manner - losing 1-0 to a team just promoted from a lower division. Though Pontevedra's was the worse performance, as they were playing in a league below last season's. Mind you, nothing compares to Arsenal's 2-8 thrashing by bloody Manchester United at the weekend. Good to see that their manager, Arsene Wenger, will survive the humiliation. Possibly.
I was going to going to write that Orwell a was a bit of a bugger - for writing words I don't know (see below) - but then I got onto the topic of US v. British English and found these respective definitions of the word 'bugger' on a page kindly cited by reader. And I decided not to upset any British readers . . .
BRITISH: 1. To engage in or someone who engages in anal sex. 2. A form of address for either a person or item - either jocular ("he's a generous bugger") or less so ("he's a mean bugger").
US: A term of endearment, often used for children. (In spoken English, the British "bugger" is sometimes misheard by Americans as "booger")
Thirty or forty years ago, when I saw the first cinema ads for a male cosmetic, I laughed out loud at the suggestion men would become anywhere near as obsessed with these things as women. Which helps to explain why I'm not a millionaire. Last weekend, in a rugby match of all things, there was a large ad for Dove Skincare for Men in the middle of the pitch. Orwell would surely have made more of this than I can.
I'm pleased to say that at least a couple of the forty or so resident sparrows have returned to my garden. Which reminds me . . . Looking out of my window down on to Pontevedra this rainy afternoon, I was surprised to see that rarest of modern birds - the builder's crane. We haven't seen any of these for quite a while. Which is something of a contrast with, say, five years ago, when they dominated the cityscape. And gave us the hundreds of empty flats now littering the city. And many others, no doubt.
I've mentioned a couple of times what a joy it is to have so many wi-fi cafés in Pontevedra. But sometimes they work and sometimes they don't. And so it was that last night I spent 45 minutes, of the 60 I had available, trying to find one that did. But at least in the second and third I didn't order a drink before I'd scouted the lay of the land.
My elder daughter arrives in a couple of days. I'm guessing she's not going to like the fact that I've extended a habit she deplores - sucking oxygen in through my teeth when drinking - from wine to fruit juices. Modern parents!
Finally . . Does anyone know anything about electric bikes? Are they worth the 1-3,000 euros they cost? I fancy freewheeling down the hill and powering back up it.
Here's another article on Galician wines.
Finally, finally . . . How about someone putting me out of my misery by becoming the 140th person to access my blog via Google Reader.
Finally, finally, finally . . . The waiter who said "Gracias a chi" to me is Brazilian. Whether this is an adequate explanation, I don't know.
Finally, finally, finally . . . The waiter who said "Gracias a chi" to me is Brazilian. Whether this is an adequate explanation, I don't know.
APPENDIX 1: ORWELL'S WORDS (From Keep the Aspidistras Flying)
- Mingy (Does it have the modern meaning?)
- Cit
- Chiel
- Widdershins (which appears to mean counter-clockwise and, if so, should be brought
back, like sennight)
- Aquarelle
- Etiolated (I really should know this one)
- Madder ('the colour of brown madder')
- Strow (?strew?)
- The groves of Ashtaroth.
More anon. Meanwhile, there's a prize for the first reader to correctly define all these. Unless it's, Alfie B. Mittington.
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