It
seems that Britain's favourite Telly-Chef, Jamie Oliver, has been
hauled over the coals and forced to apologise for merely mentioning
bullfighting in his latest book and making some anodyne comments
about the bullring and Taurean museum in the lovely Andalucian town
of Ronda. Are guides no longer allowed to mention subjects which
might make some readers feel queasy? If so, imagine how useless any
guide to Pamplona would be. Likewise a guide to all the military
hardware in the Leeds Armouries Museum. It won't be enough to be factually
objective. You'll have to steer clear of anything at all
controversial.
In
a revolutionary move, the Spanish government has announced it's
thinking of allowing shops and even customers to decide what opening
hours are to be kept. This is said to be a response to pressure from
tourists. And it raises the question of whether Turismo
offices will soon be open at hours convenient for customers
and not the staff. Possibly not as they aren't shops. Vamos
a ver.
Talking
of Spanish institutions . . . I have easily slipped back into the
habit of an afternoon siesta. This despite the fact I never once took
a siesta in the UK. I wonder what that says about me. Bit of a
chameleon, perhaps. Or is this the only rational response to the
crazy Spanish horario
of 9 to 1.30 and 4.30 to 8.30?
The
Euro: Spanish bond sales last week saw rates soar back to what
they were before the latest crisis was resolved. As with every
previous crisis resolution. In a nutshell, we're still mired in Act 1
of this performance. With no one knowing yet what will happen in Act
11, let alone how it will all end in Act 111. As a result, it's
impossible to tell whether it's a tragedy or a farce. But the Greeks
will surely have a word for it.
Meanwhile,
here's The
Economist's
take on things:- The
longer the euro area’s debt crisis drags on, the more it resembles
an instrument of economic torture. Like the medieval rack, every turn
of the crisis tears Europe further apart. This week Cyprus announced
it would seek a bail-out. Spain formally asked for money to
recapitalise its banks. The Greek limb is close to being ripped off.
How long can the Italian one hold? Monetary
union was meant to be a blessing. The euro’s founders dreamed that
it would end chronic and divisive currency crises, promote growth and
multiply Europe’s economic power. After the creation of the single
market, the euro was the next step toward political union. For
decades European integration worked. Through trade and regional aid,
poorer members joining the club quickly started catching up with rich
ones. But the euro has now set the “convergence machine” in
reverse. Parts of southern Europe are in depression and must pay high
interest rates, while Germany enjoys record low borrowing costs. The
debtors plead for mercy, but the creditors think they must suffer for
their sins. More
here.
Finally
. . . My old friend Mike, who's just gone back after a couple of
weeks here, seems to carry in his memory an awful lot of poetry and
many, many quotations. Not to mention the libretti of several
opera. In contrast, all I can remember from both primary and
secondary schools are the following pathetic snippets. I list them
here to cheer up anyone who feels their own performance is
inadequate. I don't vouch for accuracy, by the way.
Before
the Roman came to Rye or out to Severn strode,
The
rolling English drunkard made the rolling English road.
The
reeling road, the rolling road, that rambled round the shire.
You
blocks! You stones! You worse than senseless things!
Wherefore
rejoice? What conquests brings he home, to grace with captive bonds
his chariot wheels?
"Is
there anyone there?", said the traveller, knocking at the
moonlit door,
As
his horse in silence chomped the grass of the forest's ferny floor.
Season
of mists and mellow fruitfulness
Close
bosomed friend to the maturing sun.
Conspiring
with him how to load and bless
The
vines that round the thatched eaves run
Oh,
and I can also remember all the songs we used to sing in the assembly
room, seated on the floor near the piano. I think every primary school teacher could
play the piano in those days.
And
I know quite a few limericks. And my own stuff, of course.
Still
pretty pathetic, though.
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