Dawn

Dawn

Monday, April 08, 2013

I did finally get to see a re-run of the Grand National, not long after my arrival from Santander. Everyone involved seemed inordinately pleased it went off well. Which appeared to mean it was sunny, no jockeys were hurt and, most of all, no horses were killed. On this, it's reported that 28 horses have been 'raced to death, already this year, including 2 at Aintree earlier in the week. Such is the concern for horses these days, I confidently expect to see protest groups emerging in the near future. Probably the same people who used to protest against fox-hunting until it was banned. And who must now be at something of a loose end.

I turned up more pix of the ladies who besported themselves at Aintree on Thursday. Some of these were quite elegant and the rest, well, weren't. And that's just those who stayed vertical. 'Elegance' isn't the word that springs to mind for the quintet who were primarily interested in showing off their knickers. At least I can now understand why undergarments are also known as 'briefs'. These 5 turned out to be actresses from a Welsh soap opera called (what else?) The Valleys. Anyway, you can see these and many more here. Concentrate on those labelled One or Two Days Ago,

The Aintree course is, of course, located in Liverpool, about which an interesting fact (or myth) re-emerged this week. Namely that Adolf Hitler spent some time in the city in 1923 and patronised a well-known pub – The Poste House. You can read about it here and make up your own mind.

A Spanish vignette. When I was getting my stuff out of the car at 2am this morning, a car stopped and out stepped one of my neighbour Ester's friends and greeted me like a long-lost relative. Which occasioned mixed emotions in me – pleasure at the affection shown and embarrassment that I couldn't remember her name. Or not until she'd driven off at least.

Just what the Spanish royal family needed. As affection for it plummets, new concerns are raised by the imminence of a biography of the Crown Prince's wife, Letizia, a commoner with a colourful career. At least before she joined the royals. Read more here. As someone has said, the fall in popularity of the royal family finally marks the end of Spain's Transition – from dictatorship to democracy.

An El País article threw up the word escrache today but no one around me in the bar could give me a translation. And neither could the online dictionary I use. It turns out to Argentinean in origin and to mean a group which stands outside the house of a politician and protests. In some way or other, it's said to be derived from the English word 'scratch'. In Spain it's become associated with people who protest about the vicious evictions which take place here when someone defaults on a mortgage obligation.

Finally . . . I was pleased to see my wi-fi was still functioning when I got back last night but not impressed to find the download speed was a mere 68kbps, against the 'up to 6 megabytes' promised in my contract. Things were no better today so a call was made to Telefónica. Eventually it rose to 1001kbps or 1 mega. Still poor but as good as I've ever had. So, musn't grumble.

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