Saturday, February 16, 2013

The Catholic side of my family has reacted to the Pope's resignation as if Jesus had jacked in Christianity. The Jewish side hasn't. As an atheist, I'm not that bothered. Or interested even. One Pope is like another to me. Surrounded by scheming priests, bishops and cardinals. As it has been down through the centuries.

Down here in Nerja, it's not much like Spain. No biscuits with your coffee; ditto tapas with your wine; and too much noisy English conversation around me that I can't screen out as well as I routinely do with Spanish. All of which proves – once again - that the more tourism there is, the less you get for a money. Think Venice. For a truly dyspeptic view of the Costa del Sol, click here.

But it's certainly cosmopolitan. I've heard 3 or 4 languages I haven't recognised. Though I suppose they could all be Portuguese.

So, the collective term for bordellos? I can't deny the virtually-nil result for suggestions was a tad disappointing, with only Alfie Mittington and Perry having a go. My personal preference is a disgrace of brothels, by analogy with a pride of lions. So I won.

My sister's kitchen back home knows only two states:- 1. pristine, and 2. Stalingrad after the war. At the moment, she's going with the first of these. And so it is that the Battle of the Toaster has broken out. I use it and then, next time, find it's back in the cupboard. You know the rest. Perhaps we should call a truce and have it half-in and half-out of the cupboard. As if.

Spanish Corruption: I'm sated. Things are so bad my half-Spanish (ex)step-son told me today that Spain was now little more than a banana republic. Or it would be if it weren't a monarchy. For those wanting more on the subject, read the top 3 or 4 stories here.

With little else to do but sit in the shade, I've been able to make a start on Antony Beevor's Berlin. The Fall: 1945. Not for the first time, I've concluded it's easier reading an English book translated into Spanish that an original Spanish book. Maybe it's got something to do with shorter sentences. Or a less flowery style.

If you've ever wondered how democratic the EU is, this and this will be of interest

And, if you've a lingering interest in knowing where fault lies for the recent meat scandal, this will help.

And this may make you smile: A pack of wild dogs broke into Tesco's warehouse last night but by the time the police got there they'd (w)hoofed it.

And this is an update of the fate of the Priors, the unlucky British couple who were the only ones out of many thousands of candidates to have their house bulldozed by a local council. Which did wonders for foreign interest in investment in the Spanish property market.

And here, for Spanish speakers, is one of a new (but predicted) class of Spanish article, about how the EU dream is now a nightmare.

Finally . . . Is this not one of the best lyrics ever?:-

Every time I hear that march from Lohengrin,
I am always on the outside lookin' in.


Bill said...

I usually find your articles mildly interesting and/or amusing, however this article makes me very sad for you. Cynicism is one thing, this article plumbs totally new depths. Get well soon.

Alfred B. Mittington said...

That rhyme would be quite good if only Lohengrin rhymed with Looking in (which it does not... But I am sure you will give me your stubborn anglo objection that it does, independent of the lingo of the fellow who penned it). A much better rhyme is:

"Richard got married to a figure-skater
And he bought her a dishwasher and a coffee-perculator."

Other than that, I agree with Bill. You sound depressed and should get out of Nerja as fast as you can.


Colin said...

Al. I'm missing your point. Tell us what would rhyme with Lohengrin, in your opinion. It doesn't have to be a real word. Bohengrin would be enough. How many rhyming syllable are necessary in your opinion. I assume a minimum of one (the last) is not enough for you.

Anyway, who said rhyming was necessary for good lyrics?

BTW - ter (especially as the normal t'r) doesn't rhyme with tor. At least not in my part of the UK.

Keep up the good work!


Colin said...

Bill, I wrote it 10 years ago.

Colin said...


Actually, Bill, you sound a bit like my friend Moscow, who doesn't like what I write at all but seems to read it every day. And pops up now and again with a negative/critical comment.

I would have thought he had better things to do with his rime but there you go. It's a free world.

Sorry you didn't like my Torremolinos piece. You don't live there, do you.

James Atkinson said...

Colin, It's just as well the Prior's still don't want to go home, because if all they are likely to get by way of recompense is 30,000 euro's they would still have to live in a garage in the UK.
By the way, your blog didn't seem particularly depressing to me. But then I rather enjoy a good moan, and there is quite a lot to moan about. As my grandfather used to say, "Its being so miserable as keeps me happy" NB He wasn't irish.

Colin said...

Many thanks, James. The irony is that I couldn't be less depressed. But I like to come across as a curmudgeon.

A good piece of advice is not to believe a word I say. . . . .

Alfred B. Mittington said...

Dear Colin,

'Green' would come as close as any English word to the German pronunciation of Lohengrin, I guess.

The lady who wrote about skaters and coffee was Canadian... Need I say more?

When are you getting out of Nerja?

Yours, as always, AL

Colin said...

Yes, but it's a bloody English lyric. Who would write 'brie' to rhyme with Paris? Except a Frog, I mean.

Saturday, probably. Hannah arrives tomorrow.


Perry said...


Concatenation of Brothels eh?

Con; a chap never gets his money's
cat; House of pleasure or cat house.
e; eeee, by gum, that's meritorious!
nation? The Spanish, that's who!

ça ne fait rien, pronounced san ferry ann.

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