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Tuesday, 30 March 2010

The gypsies had got it into their heads that I had magical powers or was somehow psychic and asked me if I could tell them what would happen to the one in hospital. I said I would need something of his to be able to tell them if he was doomed or not. One of them gave me a stone which looked as though he'd just found it. 'This is no good' I said, 'I need something of his, something that will help me with my fortune telling'. One of them gave me the sick gypsy's hanky. 'Not that for Christ's sake, I'll get whatever it is he has!'. We compromised and he left it on the floor. I tried hard to see into the future of the sick gypsy until I turned to all hundred of them and shouted, 'he'll never get better until you lot leave him alone, go on, get lost, go home, haven't you got anything better to do than pester the poor man and the nurses attending to him?'

Later I found myself at the council's doorway where you are supposed to pass your bag through the X-ray. I am of an age or belief that I can't pass my camera and laptop through these things without being reassured first. The security guard seemed bemused and then laughed when I pointed my umbrella at him. 'Go through' he laughed and gestured that I could take all my goods with me. He didn't realise that I could have had a gun or poisoned the tip of my brolly to get at the mayor who owes me 300 Euros. I suppose if you are going to assasinate the mayor you might like to ask someone like me who is trusted by all including gypsies to carry the job out whilst posing as the least likely. I passed through quite easily and found the treasury thanks to a helpful young man. Up to now I could have had them all and escaped out the back door but I kind of need the 300 Euros so gave in a little. I had the idea that if I behaved a bit like JR Hartley I might get a result. The two women behind the counter at the treasury seemed embarassed that I hadn't been paid and did a lot of mouth movements and strange breathing exercises that men often do when they look into the engine of a car or anything connected with plumbing. They kept referring to 'them' as in 'we haven't received anything from them yet'. 'Them' turned out to be some people upstairs who seemed keen to hang onto my money or were just to lazy to bother. I persisted with my questions that seemed to go on the lines 'when you refer to 'them' who exactly are you on about?' In the end the more paranoid one said they, this time them, the ones in fron of me and not the ones 'upstairs' would pay me in cash there and then. This took a while as the paranoid one needed to type out the receipt I would need. It was weird hearing the sound of that typewriter, like I really had gone back in time. I got the cash for three months work. I asked them if I would have to do the same thing for January, February and March's payment and they looked at each other, did the breathing thing again and I understood that this probably means yes. It confirms my belief that when you want something in Spain it is best to not want it at all and then things work out OK.

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