As
you'd expect from Spain's long (and profitable) love affair with the
EU, there is no UKIP-like eurosceptic party among those standing in
Thursday's elections. Instead, protest votes may well go to
the ‘Empty Seats’ movement. On reflection, there is a eurosceptic
party in Spain; it's Galicia's nationalist party, the BNG. They have
advised their supporters - all 23 of them - not to vote as the EU is
not socialist enough.
Talking
of the elections . . . . There was a TV debate this week between
Spain's minor parties. It was reportedly seen by just 4% of the
TV audience. So, surprisingly high.
There
are those who love the bulls and those who hate them. You may be
surprised to hear that the former are a minority in Spain. Even
though they're supported - and subsidised - by the current
right-of-centre PP government. Though not in Cataluña, where
bullfighting has been banned as being too 'Spanish'. But I digress .
. . Most non-aficionados would concede that the matadors are brave
men (and occasional woman). Though I know one chap - Alfie
Mittington - who argues vehemently that things are so rigged there's
virtually no risk whatsoever. I've offered to pay him a thousand
euros if he goes into the ring but am still waiting for his reply.
Anyway, something happened yesterday in Madrid which possibly undermines his argument - all three matadors were gored and had to be carried
off to hospital. And the event was then cancelled. Of course, in
these days of antibiotics, there's little risk of death from blood
infection from a filthy horn but back before the 50s, there was every prospect of a goring proving fatal. Perhaps even Alfie would
concede they were brave back then. More here.
The
Spanish consul in the UK has resigned after it was discovered he'd
given the use of his house for a month to a former bank manager
charged back home with fraud. Presumably a friend. And there's little in Spain
more important than friendship. Which in this case extended to
providing the accused with a chauffeur service as well as a place to lay his head. Above and beyond the call of duty, I suppose.
I
guess we've all been there - the call with a few seconds delay before
anyone speaks. And then a guy with an Indian accent says "Hello.
I'm Michael Williams and I'm calling from Microsoft headquarters."
And I reply "And I'm the effing queen of Sheba" and put the
phone down. And then I regret it because it might have been my chance
to hear the spiel about me having a fault in my computer and needing
to give him access to my passwords, etc. etc. Which reminds me -
There is on the net a video of a knowledgable techie asking questions
of "Michael Williams" that ties him in knots. Quite funny.
I saw a program last night on TV about the Wels Catfish, which grows to over 2m and 75 kilos and is capable of sucking a child, woman or even a man down into the depths. And which lives in Spain's river Ebro, among others. That's one place I won't be swimming.
I saw a program last night on TV about the Wels Catfish, which grows to over 2m and 75 kilos and is capable of sucking a child, woman or even a man down into the depths. And which lives in Spain's river Ebro, among others. That's one place I won't be swimming.
Finally . . . Don Keith of Probably
Madrid has set up a new web page providing recipes. Click here
for more.
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