UN MANICOMIO ENORME

Someone once said that Britain is one giant lunatic asylum and after being here a few days I am inclined to agree. Very few people possess any elegance and most people seem to think nothing of dressing like a complete lunatic. I have also noticed since my recent arrival that we have gone from a nation of eccentrics and inventors to a nation that needs to be defined by what ever syndrome is de riguer and everyone seems to be a registered something or other. A quick stop off in any Dorset village or town and it feels like I have walked onto a set from The Avengers but without the sartorial elegance.

HOORAY FOR HOLLYWOOD.

After having a number of sleepless nights on being told my parents have been victims of what is known as a 'distraction burglary' I then found out that the nice folk up in the village where we spend a lot of time have just been relieved of the trauma inflicted by a local for extortion. It seems the villagers ,our friends included, were sent letters purporting to be from ETA demanding money and 'we know where you live' type threats. Our friend's cousin had her shop burnt down and everyone was paranoid and upset as they didn't know what was going on. If it wasn't ETA they thought it might be a gang of delinquents as the letter was badly written . The police told them it was someone local and the other day they set him up with some money hidden in a tin as he had demanded, and it turns out he asked for said tin and money to be left outside his house in the village. They told us about fifty Guarda Civil were waiting and he is now in the Nick. It is just another mind boggling story that makes you realise that nowhere is free from these arseholes. In my parents' case they have yet to find the perps even though one of them had the cheek to come back and impersonate a police officer in an attempt to get my folks out of their house again.



Our town is gearing up for the fiesta of San Lorenzo with everything in green and white and the smell of basil everywhere. I must admit to liking the pre fiesta atmosphere with everyone out and about buying 'pan de San Lorenzo' and getting their white clothes ready. There are already concerts going on and a good time will be had no doubt but I will be off as once it kicks in/off the only way to cope is join them and spend a week in and out of a coma. Seeing as I spend any number of weekends in this state throughout the year I don't need a saint for encouragement and for the sake of my sanity and liver I will be running in the direction of those hills.



Despite her upsetting experience my mother still has time to tell me some of her many stories. Growing up in Ireland wasn't easy for her and she told me the other day that she begged her granny to let her go and see Gone With the Wind and after crying so much her grandmother gave in. My mother told me it was just one of those wonderful nights that you can call a perfect moment worth remembering and the bit I like the most was as she got up to leave the cinema she genuflected as she would have done every Sunday in church. She realised what she was doing and pretended to twist her ankle but I thought it was brilliant and I think we should all genuflect if the film is worth it.