Spanish life is not always likeable but it is compellingly loveable.
Christopher Howse: A Pilgrim in Spain
The Spanish Economy - I seem to recall reading recently that the average salary of directors of IBEX 35 companies was more than €500k pa. Now comes this report of the staggering gap between executive directors and the national average income of c. €23k. Plus this one.
- Bilingual names. My daughter in Madrid went with Daniel, despite the Dani/Danny complication.
- Monopolist provider Renfe prepares for high-speed train competition from someone or other.
- Today is the day Franco's bones get helicoptered to their new 'resting' place. I fervently hope. But I don't suppose they'll then dynamite the mausoleum for him in the Valley of the Fallen.
- A woman was assaulted in my barrio yesterday in an attempted robbery. It was suspiciously close to one of the permanent gypsy settlements. So . . . Possibly one of the many itinerant druggies we keep reading about? Will this force the police action the residents have been demanding? Stay tuned.
- John Crace in The Guardian this morning: Finally, some clarity. After months of pretence, almost everyone in Westminster has abandoned any pretence to having a plan. Now it’s more or less a total mind-fuck. An out of control rollercoaster of parallel universes in which any number of incompatible things can be both true and not true simultaneously. The full article is below, or here.
- Talking of the future Ffart musical/opera/whatever, someone has suggested that, if you liked the comedy Fleabag, you'll just love the tragi-comedy, Douchebag.
- Meanwhile we have a nice singing satirist here, here and here.
- In a democracy, only a tinpot dictator manqué would try to muzzle newspapers. But what should we expect?
- Word of the Day: Perder: A versatile verb: Minimally:- Lose(objects); Waste (time, money); Miss (train, bus). Or, as the Royal Academy puts it:- (Don 't perder the last one)
2. tr. Waste, dissipate or waste something.
3. tr. Not getting what you expect, want or love.
4. tr. Cause damage to things, deteriorating or dazzling them.
5. tr. Cause someone to ruin or damage honor or property.
6. tr. Not getting what is disputed in a game, a battle, an opposition, a lawsuit, etc.
7. tr. Said of a container: Let out its content little by little. This wheel loses air.
8. tr. To suffer a damage, ruin or decrease in the material, immaterial or spiritual.
9. tr. Depend on the concept, credit or estimate in which it was.
10. tr. Missing an obligation or doing something to the contrary. Losing respect, courtesy.
11. intr. Said of a fabric: fade, lose color when washing.
12. intr. Worsen in appearance or health.
13. prnl. Said of a person: err the path or direction that led.
14. prnl. Find no way or exit. Get lost in a forest, in a maze.
15. prnl. Find no way out of a difficulty.
16. prnl. To be overwhelmed or snatched away by an accident, shock or passion, so that you cannot prove yourself.
17. prnl. Surrender blindly to vices.
18. prnl. Delete the subject or ilation in a speech.
19. prnl. Not perceive something for the meaning that concerns it, especially the ear and sight.
20. prnl. Do not take advantage of something that could and should be useful, or misapplied for another purpose.
21. prnl. shipwreck (go to the bottom).
22. prnl. Put yourself at risk of losing your life or suffering other serious harm.
23. prnl. Loving someone or something a lot or with blind passion.
24. prnl. Said of what was appreciated or exercised: Stop having use or estimate.
25. prnl. Suffer damage or spiritual or bodily ruin.
26. prnl. Said of running water: to hide or seep under the ground or between rocks or grasses.
27. prnl. his. Said of a woman: to be without honor. [I guess 'lost' here is the equivalent of 'fallen'(
English v Spanish
- As perder might show, Spanish relies more often on context than on different verbs with distinct nuances.
- My UK bank introduced voice recognition last year. Yesterday I lost/wasted(perder) more than 30 minutes because it didn't work - possibly because the line was bad and I'm getting over a cold. Theoretically, these shouldn't be a problem but tell that to the man who then struggled to answer at least 20 questions about his accounts and recent transactions on them. And all of this was on top of wasting 20 minutes on a UK printer-ink site refusing to allow me to enter Spain in the 'Country' of the address registered to my Visa card. So, today I will go to an old-fashioned shop nearby.
- Something for reader Perry. And any other fans of Spengler.
Not even the PM's narcissism can protect him as cracks show: John Crace
Boris Johnson appears rattled and even his own backbenchers see a false prophet
Finally, some clarity. After months of pretence, almost everyone in Westminster has abandoned any pretence to having a plan. Now it’s more or less a total mind-fuck. An out of control rollercoaster of parallel universes in which any number of incompatible things can be both true and not true simultaneously.
Labour both want an election and don’t want an election. They also want to get Brexit done but have no idea what Brexit they want to get done. The Tories also want an election but don’t know how or when to get one. They also would quite like Boris Johnson’s Brexit deal to pass, while secretly wishing they had voted for Theresa May’s rather better – low bar, admittedly – deal when they had the chance. What’s even weirder is that this is the new normal. No one finds any of this to be in the slightest bit odd.
There are one or two outliers who still cling to the notion that they have some influence over events. Dominic Cummings can often be found hiding in corners of parliament, torn shirt, ripped jeans, laces untied imagining himself to be a teenage Thomas Cromwell – let’s hope no one tells him how that story ended – while everyone else thinks he’s a bit of a dick.
“Plan A was for Plan B to fail,” he mutters. “We then blindside the opposition by ignoring Plans C and D and racing through to Plan E, which was to resort to Plan A that had already failed. I’m a genius. I have the country exactly where I want it.” He finishes with the manic laugh of a Bond villain about to be eaten by his own crocodiles and then vanishes into the shadows. Control, alt, delete. Classic Dom.
Boris Johnson is also finding it tough going. He’s used to a world that can be bent to his will. Where his actions have no consequences. But now the cracks in the World King are beginning to show. Not even his narcissism is enough to protect him any more.
His body language hints at betrayal and his eyes display the silent terror of a man who fears he’s in the process of being found out. Kidding himself that he actually believes in the thing that he knows to be untrue. Brexit is corroding what’s left of his integrity from the inside. He is the hollow man, bellowing against the dying of his sense of self. No longer capable of looking himself in the eye.
Even his own backbenchers have begun to doubt him. Where once they had saluted him as the Saviour who could deliver them a promised Brexit, now they saw a false prophet. A man who had flogged them a get-rich-quick Ponzi Brexit scheme but had lost far more votes than he had ever won. The public might still be taken in by his crumbling facade, but they weren’t and for Johnson’s second prime minister’s questions in nearly 100 days in office, Tory MPs could barely muster a cheer. So fickle.
Johnson appeared rattled from the start. It hadn’t helped that Tory Patrick McLoughlin had pointed out that the Incredible Sulk had achieved something no one thought possible. He had not only lost yet another Brexit vote but his temper with it. Epic fail. But when Jeremy Corbyn had played it safe by asking six relatively undemanding questions, Boris had visibly imploded. His speech patterns, already staccato, morphed into morse code and his arms alternatively punched the air randomly and flailed helplessly.
Labour have voted to delay Brexit, he boomed. That is why we will still be leaving on October 31st. The logic was impeccable. For a three-year-old. He was also equally confused about just how many hospitals he was single-handedly building. First it was 20. Then it was 40. Then it was back to 20. The real answer was none.
“They said we’d never get our deal through the Commons,” Johnson insisted. Not even his own front bench could bring themselves to break it to him that he hadn’t actually managed that. The Sulk is so confused he can no longer even remember that he had suspended his own legislation the night before.
Johnson ended by reiterating that the spaceport at Newquay that is never going to be built was already under construction. The queue to be on the first flight is already 16 million strong. All hoping they never return. Boris picked up one of his arms that had come loose and shuffled off to dream up another cunning plan.
No comments:
Post a Comment