Wednesday, March 28, 2012

Worrying Wines; Tendentious Turks; Galician Gaffes; Wandering Water; A Bus Boob; and a Seychellois Sage.

Down in Portugal a new wine's been launched called something like Memories of Salazar. Which is a tad controversial as Salazar was a dictator, the Portuguese equivalent of Franco. For some - possibly many - it's the equivalent of labelling a wine Memories of Hitler.

Speaking of whom - you wait ages for a mention of Hitler to come along and then two appear at once - a Turkish shampoo ad has caused ructions there. It features our Adolf saying, via a Turkish voiceover:- If you're not the type of man to wear a woman's dress, then you shouldn't be using a women's shampoo either. The country's Jewish community naturally protested and the ad has now been withdrawn. In an astonishing response, the ad company said that the Jewish community reacted more than they were supposed to. But I guess this could be a translation error.

On my Facebook page, I've been asked to join BranchOut. I've no idea what it is and the fact that it wanted permission to access all my data was fatal to the invitation. I've just checked and it seems to be FaceBook's version of the (utterly useless for me) Linkedin. Which I mispronounced for two years, albeit only to myself.

This is a canard I've probably read a hundred times in eleven years. This time from MSNBC:- In Galicia, Spain's lushly green northwestern corner where it usually rains all the time . . . No it bloodywell doesn't! Do you think we foreigners would live there if it did? Yes, the winters can be grey and wet but the other seasons aren't. Honest.

Being desperately thirsty during a train journey today, I broke one of my cardinal rules and bought a bottle of water. Apart from the high price, the most notable thing about this was its name - Celtic Pure. Briefly, I wondered if it'd come from Galicia but inspection revealed its provenance as Ireland. There are countless sources of mineral/ spring water in England and it beats me that they'd ship the heavy stuff across the Irish Sea to sell in the UK. But it must make sense (and a profit) to someone.

Getting back into Leeds, I then had to take a bus to Headingley. And a pretty crowded one it was, too. But I found a seat near the entrance and sat on it. I then stood up to do something or other - and quite forgot that the seat was one which folded up and down from the vertical. Which it had done of its own accord when I stood up. I'll leave you to imagine what happened when I sat down again. On the floor.

Finally . . . A salutary tale. When I was a young man and teaching in the pre-tourist Seychelles, I lived in a place that was on the beach of Beau Vallon bay. Taking a walk along this one evening, I happened upon a fisherman emptying his pirogue of the day's catch. And this conversation took place, in the perfect Creole I was capable of way back then:-
That's a lot of fish you've got there.
Yes, we've had a good day. Got the equivalent of five days' catch.
That's great. All that extra money to spend.
What do you mean?
Well, you've got four days' extra money.
Oh, yes, I suppose so.
So, what are you going to spend it on?
Are you going to use it to tart up your boat or to buy something for your house?
So, what are you going to do with the extra four days' money?
Nothing. I'm just not going to fish for the next four days.

I'd like to think I've lived my life according to my friend's philosophy. But I rather doubt that I have.


Azra said...

I'm not fond of those fold up chairs on the buses. I have one or two stories of my own :)

Colin said...

Let's hear 'em.

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