I
received my IBI(Council/Municipal) tax notice today. As forecast in
yesterday's press, this has shot up to 500 euros a year, as the
councils take the easy route to raising tax revenues. Many families
across Spain are said to taking a leaf out of the Catholic Church's
book and converting part of their house into a chapel. Like the
Church, they then cease to be liable for the tax. Worth
investigating, I guess.
Talking
about economies, I fancy some families are saving on water, or even
soap, this year. I don't recall a summer when body odour was such a
regular feature of the streets. Though not quite as regular as the
bloody accordionists.
Another
thing I'm trying to stop my chica doing is folding my
underpants into neat little squares. There can be no rationale for
this other than having too much time on one's hands. Which is not the
case in my house. I need the toilets done!
Reverting
to the subject of easy languages – Both of my vistors who guessed
correctly that English was the easiest language to learn had been
teachers of this fine tongue. And both made the point that English
was very easy in some ways, as well as being very forgiving to those
speaking it not so well. That's as maybe but I take my hat off to
anyone who masters phrasal verbs. These, by the way, were something
I'd never heard of until I came to Spain. Much to the
barely-concealed astonishment of my Spanish colleagues.
Sometimes
you just can't take religion seriously. As when I read that:- The
leader of an Amish splinter sect will stand trial today over
allegations that he forced his followers to beat each other with
paddles, made them sleep in chicken coops, had sex with married women
to “cleanse them of the Devil”, and — most heinously —
dispatched hit squads to cut off his enemies’ hair. I just love
the idea that cutting of someone's beard is worse than knocking off
his wife. And quite possibly his daughter(s).
Noise,
noise, noise! Taking a quick drink (of water) in a café-bar this
evening, I was driven to the outside tables by the cacophony being
generated by the standard Spanish show of 3 to 4 women screaming
insults at each other. Only to find that the sound was being piped to
a loudspeaker above my head.
To
be more positive . . . Stimulated by my citation of a bit of verse in
Gallego, a reader has kindly nominated this site, where four Galician
emigration ballads are translated into English.
Finally
. . . Documentary proof of how efficient the Spanish get when it
comes to having fun. Here's a two-page guide to the events of next
week-end – the Feira Franca. Or Medieval Fair.
And we've
also been given leaflets on the Tour d'Espagne, which hits us
tomorrow and the day after. Not quite sure why we get it twice on our
streets. One of which has had to be re-tarmaced for the occasion.
But, hey, I'll be cheering on Chris Froome for all I'm worth. Shame
we've no Union Jack to wave.
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