POWER TO THE PEOPLE

Well we went out last night to Bar Rugaca and Chairman Babby wasn't there thank God as I didn't fancy an argument with Huesca's equivalent to Citizen Smith. In his place were three waiters instead of the usual one or two which seemed odd as Babby had earlier declared in the local press that fewer people were going out thanks to the smoking ban. The bar is a small one and it's clientele remind me of the 'fauna' that used to frequent The Coach and Horses in Soho were I used to work. Last night still produced the usual rogues gallery and we were the last to leave around 2.30 and went on to Juan Sebastian as they often play decent music. This bar was packed out and of course someone was smoking and we left as like a lot of places this bar seems to be attracting a younger crowd who have no taste in music. It's a pity because when we first landed here ten years ago there were several bars that were run by men of a certain age and played the best tunes I have heard anywhere. Men passionate about music and eager to please when they saw us turn up with our requests for The Allman Brothers, The Kinks or Miles Davis. All things are impermanent.

On the flight back from Stansted, one that featured more turbulence than ever as it tore through the skies like a caterpillar on speed I had the misfortune of reading the Daily Mail and one Martin Samuel who confirms the intelligence of the journalists who write for this rag. Comment driving out fact. He believes the Spanish were (?) not like us with our 'endless red tape and rules and regulations' which reminded me of the time when Henderson who was then a smoker lit up a fag whilst waiting at the Police Station for his ID card only to be told by a copper that sorry, he couldn't smoke there and said copper was meanwhile puffing away like a bastard and pointing to the no smoking sign.Samuel claims he has always had a 'soft spot' for Spain with its hard porn and booze on sale at motorway service stations and even for its shit tele. Wonders will never cease.

I learnt a new word today that I am not sure is English or one of those Spanish words like footing ( jogging)or puenting ( bungee jumping). It is smirting which is a combination of smoking and flirting. I'm glad I don't get involved in either or at least when the latter occurs I think the other peron is taking the piss.

Lastly, I am still feeling stunned from certain events that happened over Christmas with family members and I am not sure if I should write about them but they might make an interesting script. One other thing that didn't involve a family member but a plumber needs to be mentioned. My mother rang a plumber by the name of CS Ray about two months ago to sort out a radiator which wasn't heating up properly and when the plumber came she asked him if he could also get hold of the walter ( ha!) filter they have under the sink to which my dad gave the bloke some money about fifty quid we think the geezer asked for. Bloke didn't come back and on my arrival I got my mum to call him up and I witnessed her make another appointment with him for the next day at 9.30. She was delighted as was I thinking maybe he had forgotten or had been busy or thought he was in Sapin or Spain even. The next day he didn't come and several phone calls proved useless. We left messages and finally a daughter answered who took the usual stance of a Brit who has been rumbled, the old ' there's no need to raise your voice to me' which I always take for an admission of guilt. Henderson and I drove round to his house and his van was outside. Just looking at the shitty van gave the game away but knowing we had to go back to Spain we didn't want my parents to have any repercussions. I rang the magazine which advertises Mr Ray and they were horrified as they pride themselves on not advertising cowboys. The woman I spoke to was hopeful it was a misunderstanding and assured me that normally when there is a problem it gets resolved but at eight o'clock that night she rang and admitted he wasn't answering his phone and that she would get in touch with another one to go round and meet us and let us know that he wasn't a rogue trader. I did wonder what the CS stood for, *unt and Shitehawke perhaps and it's a pity I don't live there as I wouldn't let this one lie despite Henderson and both parents saying we had to forget the incident. Everytime I go down to Dorset there seem to be hundreds of these stories of elderly people getting ripped off and people with dementia being robbed and swindled. It's what I said yesterday about the greed and I am often reminded of Bob Marley and his words on those who are trying to make the world worse are not taking the day off.