You
may have noticed that this article was by the Daily Telegraph's
correspondent in Madrid, Fiona Govan. Thinking that she looked rather
like the friend of a friend, I looked her up on Google Images. Which
brought up a raft of rather odd fotos. Perhaps the explanation is
that most of them have a Spanish connection. And may well have
figured in articles by her.
Talking
of things Spanish . . . Some friends of mine have been in dispute
with the Tax Office over a sizeable amount demanded as part of the
capital gain made on the sale of a property. Unfortunately, this took
place just 15 days before the date after which no tax would have
been payable. And the mistake was down to an adviser who's a personal
friend of my friends. So, they feel they can't sue her for
professional negligence and bring her insurance into play. I wonder
how many Anglo-Saxon couples would have approached things in this
way.
Last
night I gave my first class to two young daughters of my
neighbours. Both of them speak English extremely well but wanted some
help in tackling a Cambridge written exam. When I asked the elder one
- who's studying to be a brain surgeon - what in particular she had
difficulty with, she mentioned angiforms and transformations. Fine, I
said, thinking What the hell are they? Having since checked on the
internet, I suspect I misheard her as regards the first one. The
second seems to merely mean re-writing sentences.
When
the young ladies told me they were both at university in Madrid, I
expressed my surprise they weren't doing what most other Spanish
students do - living close enough to their mother to bring their dirty
clothes home at the weekend. Whereupon - a little sheepishly - they
admitted they had an aunt living in the capital city and were able to
visit her at the weekends. Indeed, the medical student confessed her
aunt lived opposite the hospital where she was studying and she went
there every day for her midday meal. How we laughed.
I
mentioned that today sees the start of a new annual fiesta in
Pontevedra - El Entroido de Verano. But that's not all; this
has brought in its train a new mascot for the city, to go along with
Ravachol, who is a parrot, not the famous anarchist. It's Furcinho
the chameleon. As to why, your guess is as good as mine. Though the
evidence is the whole thing is something set up by the town's
hoteliers to improve their occupancy rate. Let's hope they were
successful.
Finally
. . . I was right and wrong about the President of the Constitutional
Court - He hasn't resigned but neither has he apologised. He's
brazening it out, saying he's been a member of the PP party for many
years, even though this isn't permitted to judges of this court.
Well, why not? Resignation is not exactly a well trodden path in
Spain. And brazening it out is the model currently promoted by no
less a personage than the country's President, Mariano Rajoy. Who'll
be gracing us with his presence in his Pontevedra hometown
pretty soon. And who, I'm told by local friends, will be treated as
usual, as a saint rather than a sinner. Possibly because he'll have
been to Confession. And if God has forgiven him, why not we mortals?
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