Not Term Time!

Holiday!  Holiday!  Holiday!

OK it’s the weekend: but under the meaning of the act “a weekend is deemed to be actual holiday if the following Monday is a part of an official holiday.”  And it is so followed.

At last the Terrible Term has ground to its inexorable close with no pomp, no ceremony and no concession to the sheer beauty of the occasion!

Up bright and early this morning so that the final packing of the cases can take place.  This, in my case, has, of course not been done.  And, as it turned out just as well.  Our “Crisis Management Token” of only taking one case has not proved to be possible and so, at the last moment, I have had to book another case.  This makes everything so much easier (and so much more expensive) and I was able to accept my immaculately folded (not by me you understand) pile of clothes and transfer them seamlessly into another case.

The Gathering of the Gadgets is now taking place at a leisurely pace as the main case has been packed at, what for me, is a ludicrously early stage of the preparations for departure.

The elusive second battery for the camera is never easy to find and usually remains behind.  The strings of leads defy any reasonable organization and I usually stuff them unceremoniously into a small computer bag which makes it look semi-professional.  My numerous glasses and contact lenses make me look like a travelling Opticians and my attempt to use e-book readers (yes, the plural is correct) to eliminate the need for actual books has proved to be signal failure with the end result that I am taking two of each!

All of this, including The Machine, will be in the new Fascist cabin case which fulfils all of the Stalinist requirements of Ryanair.  Too late, always too late, I found a United Colours of Benetton case which was even smaller and more expensive than the one I have and led to Toni (sic.) berating me for “not having looked around enough” before my purchase!  This is the equivalent of Colonel Gadaffy accusing Mother Teresa of lacking compassion for the poor of Calcutta (or whatever we are supposed to call it these days.)

We are almost ready to go to lunch and I need to choose the ‘holiday’ watch from my extensive collection that will be discarded utterly when I find a new one in Gran Canaria or the airport.  It is one of my many money burning “traditions” that I purchase a new watch on each holiday.

As it was getting embarrassing finding watches in every nook and cranny of the house, I purchased stylish compartmentalized containers to store my collection.  Even I was startled by the number of timepieces that I have managed to accumulate: it made my past collection of cameras look positively provincial!  While looking for the elusive battery I found another two watches – one of which is a strong candidate to grace my wrist until a new replacement is acquired.

The chosen watch was a Swatch in blue, still bravely telling the time in its compartment albeit an hour out.  It has all the requirements: luminosity, waterproof, day, date, sweep second hand and numbers.  It’s rather boring though – ripe for change!

Time marches on and my cabin case is still not packed; the taxi is not ordered; the clothes for the plane not checked – this is much more like my usual preparations for a journey away!

Just to add a little frisson to the occasion the first of the almost daily confrontations over the next month between Real Madrid and Barça is about to take place.  Needless to say there have been programmes on the TV almost since dawn in which the participants find no problem in arguing, speculating and voicing the most abject prejudice!

It will make for a much more agreeable flight if Barça win.  I do not want to have to endure three hours of sulking and recriminations for my personal interventions on the side of Real Madrid.  

Everything from looking at the television in the wrong way to simply breathing can and has been taken to be an implied criticism of Barça, Barcelona, Catalonia and Spain!  In normal Barça games I can afford to relax and enjoy them, but that is not a possibility with El Clásico.  Unless Barça is winning 5-0 (a situation which the club has recently been in of course) there is no room for anything less than total concentration and attention!

The Match has now started and so I am condemned to a couple of hours of high-tension shouting.  Toni has changed into a Barça shirt and is roundly criticising the Barça side which even I think have failed to settle down yet.  Ah well, only 84 minutes to go.  What bliss!

A suspect yellow card against Barça within reasonable shooting distance of the Barça goal has somewhat changed the atmosphere in this household.  The ref. is now officially the enemy!

Time to put the car on the drive I think!