The internet and Movistar: Did I have it this morning? No, I didn't. Possibly because not all the lights that were supposed to be on were on. So, after 20 or 30 minutes fiddling with one thing and another, I left it alone and went to town. In the hope the lights would come on in my absence. As, indeed, they did. But I took my siesta before trying the connection, just in case anger prevented me from napping. Happily, I finally got it working when I came down. I called Ana at Movistar to give her the good news, but no one answered the phone. I also wanted to give her the – predicted – bad news that the speed is between 0.25 and 0.50 megas, or less than half of the minimum of I.0 megas promised. But you can't win 'em all, I suppose.
I see the Spanish guy who took the silver in the Triathlon had made allegations that the British brothers who took gold and bronze conspired to deny him the victory. Which is odd because he didn't say anything like this when they beat him into third place in the European championships here in Pontevedra a couple of years ago.
As people start to chuck the word Brixit around, it's instructive to look back on the career of Grexit. First it was unthinkable; then thinkable but unsayable; then thinkable and sayable; now thinkable, sayable and inevitable. Who'd have thought it? Well, me, for a start. And and our Ambrose, I guess.
Down in the A Barca 'parking' today, I witnessed a pretty good example of Spanish individualismo. Two young people in something like the old Mini Moke parked it a few feet away from me, in the Disabled area. Not just in one of the two bays, but astride the white line between them. Thus blocking not just one but both of them. They got out of the car without any apparent understanding or concern for what they'd done. When they passed me, I noted they were bearing TurGalicia badges. I guess they're in jobs which call for a certain empathy for tourists. Unless they're disabled, of course.
Talking of the eurozone, here's an interesting observation from the President of Luxembourg:- "We know what to do. We just don't know how to get re-elected when we've done it." Explains a lot
Only in Britain? The Director General of the BBC has instructed the Olympics commentators to stop showing excitement when compatriots win gold medals. Apparently the Americans have complained. I didn't realise US channels were famous for their impartiality.
This is the train that goes from Vigo to Oporto, at the pace of a crippled snail. Somewhere along the way it's been graffiti'd. Which is possibly an improvement.
Coincidentally, my friend Alfie Mittington has just related a tale of a trip down to Oporto. Or Porto, as the locals call it. Even more coincidentally, the post is dedicated to me. Or at least addressed to me,
Finally . . . Here is a foto of me researching my blog, on the trip to the islands:-
I wasn't going to show it as it reveals I'm not 35 but in my very late 40s. However, I've just read about the British 75 year old judge who's left his 55 year old wife to go and live with a 25 year old student. So, the sky's the limit. Or the basement, in his case.