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.
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