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Sunday, 5 April 2009

SAVING FOR A SPAINY DAY

So my peregrinations have brought me back here. I thought there might be a pattern but it just boils down to being otherwise engaged. A toss-up between some sort of opiate or Songs of Praise, Country File, Antique Roadshow, Joanna Lumley chasing the Northern Lights and The Number One Ladies' Detective Agency. Somewhere in between some vermouths were sunk, olives were demolished, some sun was taken and a quick vist to Our Lady of Salas. Photos were shot, kites spotted, magpies were counted and saluted, heists were planned, flowers were picked, kisses exchanged, plants were watered, neighbours avoided and unseen, one drawer tipped out and reborn for how long I can't tell. A fruitful day.

On the subject of neighbours, Piti and Mercedes seem to be doing the same as me and lying low. Not a peep. The Ecuadorians next door have been a bit sheepish of late but I did read in the paper that they or their compatriots had a punch up about nine o'clock Saturday morning on this road. Seems like an odd time to pick a fight but I am sure it involved lots of bare chests and bloodied handprints and screaming girls.

It seems the world is dividing into Chavs and people who just want to read the newspaper in peace. The recent demonstrations in London are also a rite of passage for those who in the future will want some peace or before they buy that first BMW and have a few kids. I did like the fake riot police carrier. The girl leaning up against it in defiance of the real police brought a tear to my eye as I reminisced about my own exploits at Greenham Common or the Poll Tax riots to name two. Oh, halcyon days.

Lastly, I think that most sentences or arguments at least should start with the words, " I probably don't know what I am talking about but..."

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