Tuesday, January 20, 2015

Spanish stats; Smarmy pols; Phoney pols; Vocab; & Ponters shops.

For reasons given below, I don't plan to spend much time in the house this morning. So this might be a short post. . .

And rather than go into them in detail, here and here are articles on Spanish stats, absolute and relative. Enjoy. I might just come back to them. Meanwhile . . . Do they justify the view that Spain is no longer as 'different' as it was and is catching up fast? And . . . If so, is this really a good thing?

One thing I've noticed about all Spanish politicians accused of corruption or even on trial for it - they never look nervous or worried when they appear on TV to deny everything. Innocence? Good TV training? Or just a justifiable confidence that, whatever happens, they'll soon be able to spend whatever they've stashed in Andorra, Luxembourg, Liechtenstein or Switzerland?

I think I've mentioned I wasn't too taken by the gathering of opportunist politicians in Paris after the Charlie Hebdo murders, especially as some of them presided over repressive regimes, Or, even worse, Saudi Arabia. I'm even less impressed now that I've read they weren't in the main procession but, 'for security reasons, in a side street, surrounded by minions. But what should one expect?

Spanish vocab: The word for 'compost' in my dictionary is abono orgánico. But this seems to have been displaced by the English word. Perhaps simply because it's shorter. But, if this is true, much of Spanish is destined to disappear.

Shops continue to close in Pontevedra, sometimes to be matched by the opening of another one not far away supplying the same stuff. Often, though, they're replaced - in the centre at least - by snazzy new dental surgeries or 'health centres'. How many of these can the city support? And does this really matter, if you're just washing cash?

Finally . . . 


1. It's better. Says Alfie Mittington

2. My noise problem next door reached its apogee yesterday, when the guy who's been working there for months, drilled and hammered from 3 until 7.30pm, depriving me of my siesta. And he started up again at 9 this morning, the equivalent of 7am in Spain. If this continues, I might be driven to extreme lengths. So, if this blog suddenly stops, I'll most likely be behind bars. Or 'between bars' (entre rejas) as they say in Spanish.  

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