I've mentioned that my neighbour, the lovely Ester, has a concept of time that might be useful on a parallel planet. But I'm beginning to wonder. Four days ago I told her that her dog was digging up my garden and she replied that they'be home Tuesday. Well, it's now Wednesday . . .
I've often wondered whether learners here take their driving test on the streets or on a dedicated course like the one I pass every day. Some English friends recently advised it's the former and then amused me with the story of their daughter passing her test after only a few minutes on the road and without doing a hill start or negotiating traffic lights or a single roundabout. As if that matters here. But, anyway, since her 9.30 appointment took place at 11.00, our conclusion was that the examiner was anxious to have his coffee/breakfast.
The bank I'm leaving - Pastor/Popular -continues to unimpress me. I got no reply to an email of last week even after I'd handed over a copy to one of my contacts. And when I said I wanted to transfer6 my balance to my new bank, I was advised there'd be a charge of 125 euros . . . Finally, I was told the pittance Google Ads sends me every year was not being transferred from the Citibank account Pastor had taken over. Allegedly, the amounts have been returned to Google but we will see.
Our weather has been stupendous so far this winter. So much so that my elder daughter, who lives in Madrid, complained on Xmas Eve that, for the first time in her life, I was browner than her. And then she went on to say it was time for me to write a Living Will. Kids . . . Don't you just love 'em?
No cartoon today. Mac cable bust. Battery dead. Am am writing this on my phone . . . Which never does anything for my mood.
Errors will be corrected later.