Sunday, 20 September 2020

While I am here I might as well keep going. One of the best compliments I have ever had came from my mother. A couple of years ago I put Mr van de Ven's glasses on as a laugh and turned to my mum and asked what she thought. She looked at me and said 'oh, lovely, you look like Judge Ginsburg'.
I'm presently putting stuff in storage. The amount of shite I have managed to accumulate is shocking. Loads of stuff that I can no longer use thanks to the feckin' virus. Tons of things that nobody will be able to wear or touch, especially the more theatrical contrivances. I am standing in the study and then in the storage room, the 'trastero' as it is known in Spanish. The only word I can conjure up is despair. Bascially a rubbish dump for things you are too scared to throw out. It's Sod's Law that a week later you will find a use for that mile of bubble wrap you kept just in case you meant to send someone something that might break in the post. I could go back years with all this. When I first met Mr van de Ven I witnessed stuff in his flat that had potential to put me off him. One was an apron that had what appeared to be a bikini or bra and pants on it. I turned round to him one day and said 'it's the apron, or me'. He went into a bit of a panic and said it was a gift from a colleague and what if. ' What if what?' I asked. 'Well what if she comes round one day and sees I have thrown it away?' These are the perils of everyone. How often have you wondered this shit? The 'gifts' from the pub on Saint Patrick's night that end up somewhere 'just in case'. The books, presents, clothes, and so on that people get you for your birthday and Christmas that just leaves you thinking 'you don't really know me do you?' Why am I writing this? I guess as a warning. Do not give me anything unless I can eat, drink, read or look at it and admire it. You all have been warned!!

Wednesday, 9 September 2020


In other news...You may or may not be familiar with the local accent here where I live and it is difficult to describe if you have never heard it and quite different from the rest of Spain. There is a tendency to stress the last syllable on certain words especially at the end of a sentence. In other words, everything goes up at the end. Spanish people from other regions say it sounds like the person is singing. The first time I realised was when a student responded with the word 'que?'. Not a quick 'que', more a long drawn out, 'queeeeee?' Later it was the city Zaragoza. Micaela Portaloo ( Michael Portillo, he of the train journey and red trousers, you know the prick) thought it fun to pronounce it Tharagostha, on his recent sojourn there, with a stress on the 'o'. But if you are from there or even here you might like to say 'Zaragozaaaa!'  May I point out that I am not making fun of the accent, I love it and before long I was and am, in the spirit of integration, joining in. For example there was the day I didn't agree with a friend and found myself saying 'pero Jorgeeeeee' instead of 'Jorge' which is just as easy to say. Nowadays I always say to a woman or girl that is doing or saying something contrary to what I think is right, 'pero chicaaaaa!' when a simple 'pero chica' would do. So today when a woman cold called I decided to lay it on with a trowel. She was trying to sell me, of all things, water and I just went into one. 'Pero chicaaaaaa! Hay agua en el grifo noooooooo?' 'Come on girl, there's water in the tap isn't theeeeere?' 'Pero vengaaaaaaa. No me fastidieeeeeeess!' 'Come of it! are you taking the fooooookin' piiiisss?' On I went, egging myself on.  Guess who hung up first?

Tuesday, 8 September 2020


Britain finally becomes a banana republic. A politically unstable country whose economy is dependent upon the export of a limited-resource product, which in this case is comedy!

Friday, 14 August 2020

How often do you lie? Most of the time I convince myself I never lie because I have a problem where I really need to go into the detail of events and make sure nothing went amiss. I tell yours truly that I am accurate and honest simply because I want everyone to know exactly what happened and there is often no point in lying. The truth is more surreal. Yet there are moments when I decide telling porkies is the only way to stop me going mad or from being bored. I lie to strangers. Usually at bus stops. I tell them I have children, chickens, religious beliefs... My favourite lie was telling some American tourists the Changing of the Guard was a public execution and I always tell Dutch tourists that the First Communion they are witnessing are child marriages. I'm only truthful with friends and family. They usually hate it, depending who is on the recieving end. Well, anyway, on account of the virus I needed to fill out a form online to sign on. It looked pretty easy but I should have known there would be some ambiguity or inadequacy. These things are not designed to go smoothly. I couldn't proceed unless I wrote in the expiry date of my time left on this planet or something like that. So I lied. I told them I will be here for the next 100 years. A woman rang and I explained the hole I had dug myself into, or rather would be buried in a century, and she told me not to worry about it. That these things happen all the time. I agreed and said we should leave it as an observation. I am sure the authorities will monitor it. Onwards and upwards!

Tuesday, 4 August 2020


Don't know if you've heard but the King of Spain's dad, the ex King of Spain, Juan Carlos is leaving Spain and going into some kind of self imposed exile. Rumour was he was going to the Dominican Republic but I find that hard to believe. Why is he going? Well, have you got another hour to spare or have you heard of Google? Anyway, the bit I'm getting at is the interviews I saw on the BBC World earlier. Several Spanish people were stopped in the street and asked what they think of the whole affair(s). There was a wide range of opinion including those who might like to see the whole royal family beheaded, angry people critical of  his unacceptable behaviour, others wondering why he has to leave and maybe he should serve his time in Spain a bit like his son-in-law, another social liability. However, my favourite was the older woman who seemed to think that he had also done a lot of good for the country, but on the other hand a lot of bad. Yes, it's not like he murdered anyone is it? Oh that's right, I forgot. he shot and killed his own brother. 

Sunday, 2 August 2020

You don't want to wear a mask? Fine. Don't wear it. But don't expect me to teach you. Or come near you without a mask until I can have a vaccine. Don't worry anti-vaxers. I will be first in the queue! Having said this I will meet you for a coffee and a 'tertulia', a wonderful conversation over coffee or a beer or vermouth. If you want,  go ahead and mix with dozens of other people who may or may not have the Coronavirus and may or may not catch it and may or may not pass it on to your elderly relations who may or may not die a horrible death away from their loved ones. Just keep away from me for now. For this moment I do not want play some kind of weird Russian Roulette, with my or my husband's health. You do your thing, I will do mine. See you in about two years.........oh, by the way, P.S. we were supposed to be in San Sebastian right now, celebrating husband's big birthday. Well, that 'aint going to happen but we are quite happy to stay in the so called 'hotspot' of Spain that the British and German and Belgian authorities advise everyone to stay away from...well stay away!! Fuck off and don't come then. Who needs you!! Go to Shagaluf, Magaluf. Maybe Spain needs to rethink its image and not be the fecking bar of Europe for the northern Calvinists. Who knows.