Dawn

Dawn

Sunday, February 10, 2013

I paid a visit to my friendly seamstress today, to deposit a minor repair occasioned by a boisterous dog. This led to a discussion of her Staffordshire bull terrier. And to a foto display. Her puppy, she said, had been sired by a world champion. I pretended to believe this and delved into my supply of superlatives. This is a regular requirement is Spain and can be quite tough for a Brit used to dealing in understatement. But, if you can't do it, Spain is not the place for you.

Talking of dogs . . . I've long believed the tufted Mexican hairless dog was the ugliest canine in the world. But walking past the pet-shop down in the mall today I clocked two Shar Pei puppies and now I'm not so sure. Both breeds are testament to man's genius for distorting nature.

Outside the new Castellón airport – the one that's never seen any planes – there's a small vanity project – a statue of the (crooked) politician who drove the project. One señor Fabra. The sculptor – who's an odd tyke – was, naturally, an old friend of Fabra and was paid 300,000 euros for his pile of junk. He complained it cost him 800,000. Which is not exactly credible. Mr Fabra, by the way, looks like an archetypical politician of the Franco era, with slicked back hair and a permanently-worn pair of shades. In fact, he's even painted wearing them in a picture behind his desk. Or I should say ex-desk.

Talking of politicians . . . I've mentioned that the current Ministress of Health is accused of accepting gifts to the value of tens of thousands of euros. Her response has been that a judge considered these accusations a couple of years ago and 'archived' the case. What she failed to add was that this was only because the offences were proscribed, having taken place more than 5 years previously. President Rajoy has insisted she's staying in her job because she's doing it wonderfully. Politicians don't resign for trifles in Spain. And everything seems to be just a trifle.

Yesterday I went to a snooty jewellers in Vigo, to collect my Omega watch after its servicing and repair. You'll understand this watch is of great sentimental value when I say this cost me 150 euros. Just as it did three years ago, when I last had this done. Frankly, I'm pretty sure this is the standard price, even if they just squirt a bit of oil into the works. And that, if I went in on Monday with my freshly serviced watch, they'd duly phone me in a week or two with an estimate of 150 euros. And they'd later give a little plastic bag containing the 5 parts they'd replaced. As they've done on both occasions so far. Nice business.

On my way to the jewellers I had to cross a wide road via a zebra crossing. You know what's coming. I negotiated the first half safely but as I walked from the middle a white van which could easily have stopped chose to swerve round me instead. As the driver's window was open, I took the opportunity to swear loudly at him. But I rather doubt that “Arsehole!” meant very much to him. I should, of course, have shouted “Cabrón!”. Or at least “Gilipolla!”. Does this really only happen to me?

Finally . . . The Shi'ite Muslim Alawite sect is the dominant group in Syria, despite being only 12% of the population. And it's to this sect that President Assad belongs. It believes in re-incarnation but in rather a strange way. A very bad man risks coming back as a woman. In contrast, a very good woman stands no chance at all of returning as a man. Go figure, as they say across the Pond.

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