SIESTA MOMENTS

It is dead outside. The whole country appears to have gone for a lie down. A lone football is being blown up the street as I look out the kitchen window for signs of life. A small boy appears and predictable kicks it, and immediately disappears into a doorway, leaving the ball to roll on by. I am not sure if the wind that is blowing is the Cierzo. It is eerie, mysterious as it knocks over watering cans and blows bits and pieces from other people's terraces onto mine. I can't see the wind but I know it has its own mind. The only sound to compete with the wind is the call of the bee-eater , a beautiful bird that flies up from tropical Africa and inhabits the space above my head. It's time to clear away the table where I sit and join my other half, my media naranja, and the rest of the Pais for some much needed shut eye.

Some people are saying that Priti Patel, the latest British Home Secretary is very attractive, sexy even. I'm trying, but all I'm getting is Norman Tebbit.

You think you know someone, part three hundred and fifty four. 

Husband just told me of another plan. To steal a decommissioned Russian submarine, paint it yellow and then attack that island where the Barclay brothers live, what's it called? Brecqhou? I'm still up for it but that art heist beckons. When they ask me why I did it I shall reply, 'I was bored'.

"That drinking session in Brussels with Dominic, AKA the Turnip, you know the one when after the third pint he started to smell of steroids. That time he stopped mid conversation and asked 'so, you mean that time I went to New York we flew over water?' That night he started showing off his martial art skills at four in the morning. Well, I didn't finish. When we were trying to hail a cab he turned to me and said 'I'm not sure what to say to the cab driver, I don't speak very good Belgium' (sic) . Guess what, he's been made Foreign Secretary".

In the future young people won't be on Facebook, Instagram, Twitter or any other social media. That's because they will rebel and be too busy inhabiting what we would still call the 'real world'.

I think we should have a referendum on whether or not to have a death penalty. When the 'yes,let's go for it' people win everyone can sit around afterwards moaning about how to go about it. What kind? Hanging? Firing squad perhaps. Garrotte with piano wire. What about a nuclear bomb? Trident? Never mind the collateral damage it's what we voted for!

I have always been an observer, sometimes a chronicler. I try to be a participator but I will invariably  be the fly on the wall.

If you are wondering why Britain hasn't left the EU yet and probably never will at this rate it is because of a little known fact that Uri Geller and I are working on it telepathically to prevent it from ever happening.