There are lies;
damned lies – and printed information in Catalan.
I was assured by
the details on the official stamp collecting form that the last restaurant that
I had to get was closed for the first two weeks in September for their summer
holidays.
Toni suggested
that, in spite of indications to the contrary, we should go and check out the
place. We did and, of course, the place
was open and information about summer holidays was greeted with
incomprehension!
So, I was able to
get the last stamp and finally complete the whole Ruta of 30 tapas!
The next problem,
if I am to win a place on the table for the gastronomic feast, is to get my
completed fully stamped form to the competition organizers.
Why not post it,
or push it through the door I hear you ask.
Simple, trusting folk: this is Spain!
On the off chance
that luck would follow us, as it did for the “closed” restaurant, we decided to
go to the Tourist Information Office (which was the official recipient for the
completed forms) and amazingly found it open - in spite of the stated times
telling us that it would be closed!
We walked in and
told the person there that we had come to deliver our form and were promptly told
that we couldn’t do that because he was connected with tourism whereas we needed
to give the form to a colleague who was connected with gastronomy. There was not the slightest suggestion that
he could take this form and perhaps give it to his colleague on Monday. No. We
would have to come back when the “right” person was there!
David’s sage
advice came back to me at this time of disbelief: “Remember Stephen, this is
not Britain!” Indeed it isn’t.
But even this
piece of idiocy fails to detract from the unexpected delight of having
completed my Ruta. And, of course, I am
completely confident that I will win a place at the gastronomic meal or an ipad
or possibly both. Much better thinking
about that than considering the months ahead.
Mr and Mrs Shouty
had a party for their repulsive grandchildren yesterday and, just to increase the
pleasure, they asked all the most boisterous children in the neighbourhood: and
so from 11.00am until gone 8.00 pm we had the joyous sound of screaming,
shouting, yelling children wafting its way through the window for over ten (10)
hours.
In a positively
negative sense I mixed up the days and assumed it was Sunday yesterday rather
than today: that is a gained day in anyone’s money!
The Scumbags have
gone!
Almost to the
minute of the time that Toni predicted the troop of degenerates sloped out of
their house and made their way to the car and out of our summer lives! Apart from odd holiday weekends they should
be safely away until next summer.
And tomorrow is
the Great Arrival with blissfully empty classrooms of the past week now filled
with the unwilling to be taught by the . . . well, I will not presume to paint
all my colleagues with my own negativity!
The most pressing
thing at the moment is finding my shoes which I have not worn for a couple of
months and I am not entirely sure of their whereabouts.
But then, who
cares?
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