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Friday, 17 October 2008


Five more days to go till I can have a 'bebida'. My kidneys have had enough of being on holiday and need some of the sixteen and a half kilos of Somontano grape that was harvested this year.

Reading C.E. Eckersley last night with a glass of hot milk, I came across the sentence 'pullulation of verbal novelties' , meaning the reproduction of useless words in English. Eckersley thought the growth of the English language should be halted but if it had I wouldn't be able to tell my friend Fernando that 'no, your dad is not right when he says there are more words in Spanish than in English'. This is one example of when the Spanish will put up a fight, especially the Aragonese, and especially the ones who don't speak another language but are the gold medallists when it comes to knowledge of one.

Having a peep at the Daily Mail would, I imagine, be like peeping into David Icke's mind. So I dared myself today to do the former and was left in no doubt that if half of it is true I should perhaps not go there for Christmad ( spelling mistake but quite like it. Eckersley would be pissed off ). The words shopping,traffic jam, Curry's and meltdown leave me in no doubt that the British are mad. If only for coming up with this newspaper. When I am in the motherland I love to go shopping to get things I can't get here. Stone's Ginger Wine for instance which I never drink neat.

Speaking with a Bosnian friend of mine I was trying to convey the goings on here and she said 'Oh yes, it sounds like my country. Nothing works and no one cares'. Now when I am faced with the histrionics of my colleagues or friends that such and such hasn't turned up or won't be starting on time or at all I think of these words and find them vaguely comforting. Either that or I say, 'come on, you are Spanish, you must be used to it by now, you've been here longer than me' which invites a glare which I have also found to be soothing knowing it won't come to blows or a stabbing.

I still haven't asked the man down the road why he has named his chocolate cum crisp machine '25 Hours' because I am worried he will let me in on something that would be manna for The Daily Mail.

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