The
Spanish property market is still very much in the doldrums but what
business there is largely reflects foreign interest in bargains in
the sun. Many of whom are Brits, extending their love affair with
Spain. One conclusion which can be drawn from this, sadly, is that
the Spanish government was right not to give a toss about the risk of
adverse reaction to all the reports of fraud and property abuses down
south. The guiris will keep on coming, whatever happens, it
seems.
Every
now and again, along comes a list of the 10 most pretentious films in
history. I'm always delighted that they include Last year in
Marienbad. I watched this film at the film society at university
and then promptly quit the society. Unlike my friends, I found it to
be a load of old tosh and an utter waste of more than an hour of my
life. So I wasn't surprised to see it made no. 2 in this list.
Fortunately, I've never heard of the winner, The Tree of Life.
The
Spanish verb for 'to kill yourself' is suicidarse. It's
reflexive but Why? Why not just suicidar? After
all, you can't suicidar
anyone but yourself? Unless, perhaps, this for form is saved for when
someone is reported to have killed him/herself in police custody.
I
went to my local health centre yesterday, firstly to see the nurse
for routine BP and ECG tests and then the doctor, to discuss the
results of these and of my last blood tests. The nurse asked me, for
the third time, if I was German. Anyway, I lay down as she attached
leads to my torso and limbs, during which we talked about one thing
and another, especially the weather. This topic is favoured by
Galicians as much as it is by Brits. After 5 minutes or so, she
announced she couldn't find the machine to connect the cables to. I
couldn't understand why, but she kept stressing it was the big
machine she was looking for. After about another 5 minutes, she
summoned the receptionist to help her and they rummaged the room
together. Just as the receptionist found the small machine on a
shelf, the nurse pulled back a screen and found the big one. After
the ECG, she took my blood pressure and the following conversation
ensued:-
Right.
Your BP's OK. Just a little high. I'll put all the results on the
computer for Dr Ernesto to have when he gets back from holiday.
He's
on holiday??
Yes.
He's in Rome for 2 weeks.
But
I have an appointment with him in 5 minutes.
No
problem. There'll be a substitute.
Yes,
but there's no point discussing these results with him/her.
Well,
make another appointment for the second half of September.
So
off I went to see the receptionist . . .
Can
I have an appointment for the second half of September, please.
OK,
Dr Ernesto is back on the 16th.
OK.
That's fine.
Well,
there certainly are slots that day.
Fine.
Except
it's his first day back and lots of patients want to see him that
day. You might be better off coming in the next day.
[Foxed
by the logic]. OK.
So,
what to conclude from all of this? Tentatively:
1.
The nurse doesn't have a great memory for faces.
2.
The nurse is not good at keeping her office together.
3.
Like 95% of all Spaniards, Dr Ernesto doesn't plan his holidays until
the last moment.
4.
The number of appointments given may not tally with the number of
patients presenting themselves. Which could explain my suspicion that
several people were given the same 3.15 slot as me last time I went
to the health centre. Possibly to compensate for the no-showers. I
recall my Dutch friend, Peter, telling me these were never
reprimanded in any way.
Talking
of times/hours . . . Here's more on the organisation which wants
Spain to move from its unique (and crazy) daily timetable. And to
switch to Portuguese (and UK) time. And here's its Facebook page. I
see they have a congress in Madrid in November.
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