HAPPY NEW 'EAR!!

There is a proverb that if unfortunate incidents have occurred twice a third hapless event is likely to occur. You can perceive connections and meaningfulness in unrelated things which can get you accused of being paranoid or having a vivid imagination. It all started with the new neighbour who could, according to another saying, ''chew your ear off''. This person can talk for hours about fuck all. I mean nothing. Nothing at all. How she took her socks off, how she put them back on again, the chicken she ate and all interrupted by 'you know what I mean'. Yes, we know what you mean. You have been telling us for hours sings a chorus of a beleagured community. It is astonishing and something to behold and one day I will film her so that you can all vote for her in the upcoming, ''dickhead of the year award''. Anyway, the other thing is I found out that during the early hours of Christmas morning some clever dick got into a fight and bit another bloke's ear off. I nearly got dick, bloke and apostrophes mixed up but that's me, obsessed. I saw the photo of said lughole in the local rag and nearly threw up. There it was, the ear, lying next to the bins. This all happened in Our Lady of Salas square which gave it a religious flavour. The report had some tasty morsels in the way of local journalism too. How the local and national police took charge of the ear and delivered it to the local hospital San Jorge so it could be 'reimplanted'. Apparently the offender had run off in the direction of Argensolas street and had been quickly detained. The police said they knew him immediately as he had 'form'. Twelve. Robbery, injuries, extortion and theft for starters. The victim claimed the villain of the piece had been threatening him all afternoon and night and while this was being recorded the madman, who was by now in ''a great state of agitation and aggressiveness'',  had to be shackled ''with the minimum of force'' to avoid endangering the integrity of the police and that of the accused himself. What about the third departure from the normal? Well, I went for one of many vaccines yesterday and the nurse who might as well have been called Ratchett shouted at me in a very unbefitting manner. Totally uncalled for. Accusing me of sitting, 'really far away''. I was within the two metre exclusion zone and I was the only person in the surgery apart from her and another nurse so I shouted back in an exaggerated fashion, ''sorry love, I can't hear you!! Can you speak up a bit, I'm a bit hard of hearing!!''. Her mate, the other one, then said something about my foot. All I heard was 'pie', 'foot', but she was shouting 'de pie', 'stand up', as opposed to sit down which is what I was doing. Up down. Down up. Mask on. Mask off. Up the ladder. Down the ladder. Up the ladder again. I'm feckin' exhausted by it all. And so you see Officer, instead of a punchline I came to the decision that 2022 will be the year of no longer supporting the dull and ignorant.  I shall be directing my talents to those more appreciative!! Watch this space....Happy New 'Ear!!!!

Today is our happy wedding anniversary. Eighteen years married. 23 years together. Sometimes it has been like a white knuckle ride with us both strong willed, candid and uniquely nuts but the one connecting thing has always been love and admiration. Hoping it remains that way. Cheers!

You know you need new glasses when what appears in the distance to be a food truck is, on closer inspection, a van recruiting or promoting a career in the Spanish army. 

Did I mention that I think my neighbours have murdered their father? I thought that might get your attention. 

Yours Miss Marple...

FROM PANDEMIC TO PANDEMONIUM

Men of Britain. Or should I say, men of England. What's with the fighting on the forecourts of the petrol stations? How am I supposed to explain to my students here in Spain what is going on back in the UK when they ask me if everyone there has lost the plot. #keepontrucking

Lots of people are surprised when they find out I have an allotment. They say they don't see me as the type. Imagining me more at home at the opera or delivering speeches in Brussels. Well, I am happy doing all these things but there is a little known story that might help in the understanding of my earthiness. When I was a kid I was pushing my toy pram up a London street and an old lady, the embodiment of Margaret Rutherford, ( look her up, you'll get the idea...) all tweed and brogues, approached me and asked if she could peer inside the pram and, ''look at my little dolly''. Apparently I nodded, stood back,  and much to her horror the pram was full of mud, packed down tightly with a few worms struggling to get out. The Beginning...

The Basajuan is a mythical creature who lives in the forests of Navarra and the Basque Country. A hairy hominid Lord of the Woods. He features in a Spanish book I am reading, El Guardian Invisible. In the book there is a character, Aunt Engrasi, who reads the Tarot cards and believes in the Basajuan. I read this book before I go to sleep and the other night it was influencing my dreams. I dreamt of my friend Marge and her Tarot cards which are the Salvador Dali version. During the dream I could hear a loud rustling noise coming from another realm. The realm of reality. I realised there was something in the bedroom and woke up from the dream and tried to find what it was. Mr van de Ven got involved and we decided it must be a mouse or worse, a rat. And there they were. Two eyes peering at us from behind a bag. "What the hell is this and how did it get here? You and that allotment. You are always bringing things home with you. First snails and now this! It must have hitched a ride with you the last time you went. Get a glass and a postcard or something!" The first postcard I could find turned out to be Salvador Dali's Temptation of Saint Anthony. So here he is the little fella'!