WHO IS WATCHING THE WATCHMAN?

Since I have lived here folk have talked about the pedestrianisation of our road and the roads around it. The latest news was work would begin in the next few days ( this was in April this year) and the shopkeepers in the Plaza Bolinga were delighted after campaigning for years for the council to do the decent thing. It is now late May and I see no sign of work and am not holding my breath for another seven years. They can do what they like really with our money and keep proving themselves to be as big a bunch of chavs as the British government and all their associates.

In the last few weeks I have seen disturbing documentaries on the BBC involving the motherland and the latest trend for young men to get a big dog to replace the lack of penis. I guess if you can't afford a car a dog will do but the cruelty involved and the horrific stories portrayed gave me nightmares. My feelings toward Piti change when I see the amount of damage inflicted on some of the dogs in London alone. Last night there was another programme about the amount of security cameras around Britain which we all know about but the latest is every car journey is recorded and kept for two years and most of the companies or people running these cameras including the Home Secretary don't realise or at least think or question why no one is monitoring them. When I watch programmes like this I realise I have been away too long or perhaps not long enough. I try to imagine a Spain that tells its citizens off everytime they drop litter and the images of them giving the camera the finger and a mouthful seems refreshing considering the alternative which is living in Middlesborough and duly picking the rubbish up so as your photo doesn't appear in the Gazette on Monday morning with the finger of shame pointing at you and an eighty pound fine in the post. Never mind that you are filmed with your knickers round your neck and no bell on your bike Sunday morning and no photos are published but the security guard watching probably knocks off a crafty one.

Meanwhile here in the time machine that is Huesca people are still getting arrested for being drunk and in possession of a cow and dare I say it, Psychic TV are playing at the village hall tomorrow. We had Gong and Lydia Lunch whose age totals prehistoric. Now with Genesis P. Orrige et al the chapter surely must close. It was all shit the first time around. Why are they trying to torment me now? What next? Kajagoogoo? Cliff Richard?

My pupil Alejandro, who has enjoyed the works of Roald Dahl, The Beano, and everything from My Family and Other Animals to Tom's Midnight Garden has won an English competition and is first in Aragon and twenty first in Spain. The Cabernet Sauvignon and the Somontano his parents gave me were delicious but he is the star here and may it continue. Hic Hic Hooray!