I went to the Picasso Museum in Málaga today, to see whether his stuff had any more appeal for me than previously. Can't say it did really. The abiding sensation I had – possibly unfair – was that his portraits can't have taken all the long to knock off. I was surprised, then, that he didn't put the time as well as the date on them. On second thoughts, it seems sensible that he didn't advertise his productivity.
Back in Nerja, I had two motoring contretemps within 5 minutes this evening. The first was when an idiot came out of a side road onto a roundabout and I had to swerve to avoid him. The second when somebody drove up and stopped behind me when I was trying to reverse into a parking slot. The latter led to some verbals but I decided to let it pass when I noticed the other guy had about 27 separate pieces of gold on his person. And a somewhat swarthy complexion.
One of the items on the restaurant menu this evening - English version – was Hake to the Mare. The Spanish original was no help as this said Merluza a la Mare. And the waiter had no idea what it should be. Suggestions welcome. Meanwhile, I'll just note how topical it was to be offered a dish with a horse sauce.
How's this for irony . . . As she contemplates the suicide of herself and one of the most evil men in human history, Eva Braun writes to to her best friend that she can't understand how things have come to this pass but “at times like this, it's impossible to believe in God.” Well, not a Nazi God, at least.
Finally . . . Like Alfie, you may have noticed I dropped a zero off the jurors' IQ total yesterday. It should have been 1200, giving an average of 100, not 10. The funny thing about this is that, as I awoke this morning, my brain was telling me about the error. Spooky or what? Am I controlling my brain or is it controlling me?