Castelldefels was packed today.
It was as if there was something going on that I didn’t know about. A holiday, a fiesta proclaimed to all the world, but kept a secret from me so that the influx of people determined to enjoy themselves could come as a nice surprise to me!
The generally rotten weather of the past few days has given way to better. Not wonderful, but better. The sun is shining fitfully and, as long as you are within the shine of that distant star then you can convince yourself that it is early summer.
Once walk into the shadow and you can easily convince yourself that winter is not yet over! Having said that I was wearing a short sleeved shirt today. I was, of course alone in affecting this form of dress, all the other inhabitants of Catalonia being firmly and snugly tucked up in their full winter wear!
There was also a sharp wind which whipped up the sand on the beach into fast moving clouds. The shape of the beach, or at least its profile, has been altered by the work which has been done near to the first line of flats. I have no idea what they are up to, but they are quite flamboyant with the number of earth (sand) movers and the general chaos they have caused. They have made major inroads (almost literally) into the partially grass covered dune which is just outside the exit from our flats on to the beach.
The wind and the clouds of sand were doing their best to transform the man made incursions into something far more natural. Give the wind a few more days and the profile will look as though it has been caused by wind erosion over the centuries!
The wind brings out the surfers in force. Not those namby-pamby board surfers, but rather those more showy wind surfers who use the curved kites to give them speed and height. The velocity that one of the guys (? Difficult to tell) managed to achieve on his board is usually only matched by those infinitely irritating motorised ski bikes or whatever they are called. Cutting through the waves at that speed must be exhilarating and I am quite prepared to leave the feeling that these intrepid or stupid (depending on your point of view) sportspeople get to my imagination rather than my experience.
I regard them as a sort of moving landscape feature that makes my contemplation of the sea and surrounding areas more interesting.
As television overload makes the ordinary unacceptably boring in short measure so people, with what I can only describe as a death wish, pander to our jaded appetites and produce ‘sports’ which stay just this side of the suicidal.
I suppose that all skiing is a form of going down a mountain side, but on conventional ski slopes there is usually a covering of snow and chasms and ledges and rocks usually indicate that you are falling off a cliff rather than engaging in sporting activity.
Now, of course, there is a sort of skiing which looks to me like falling and it is a very well organized (or state funded) television company which doesn’t resort to gratuitous pictures of some idiot jumping from a helicopter onto a pinnacle summit and then skiing and falling his way to the bottom.
I suppose my shouted advice to the rescuers scrambling towards the crumpled figure that they “leave him (it really is usually a him) there to die,” is a little unfeeling and unworthy of a member of one of the caring professions!
When you have sat on a Turkish beach and tried to explain the way to play squash to a frankly disbelieving Turk, you begin to realise that your sport and perhaps all sport is innately ridiculous. I did try and explain badminton to the same Turk but after my description of squash I think he regarded me as some sort of Baron Munchausen figure! You can get injured in these sports – one of my squash partners smashed a ball into my eye – but generally the greatest damage to the system is done by the drinks in the bar after the game!
With potholing, sky diving, extreme skiing and the like the risks are fairly obvious. If anything goes wrong in potholing then people have to put their lives at risk to rescue the ‘sportsmen’ and the rescue services are generally funded by the public.
I suppose that this is a ‘slippery slope’ argument. The same could be said for those who deliberately adopt a life style where food, drink and drugs play a significantly adverse part in the health of the participant.
How boring, the argument goes, it would all be if we all played safe. I’m not sure just what potholing has given to the world, discounting nice pictures of stalagmites and stalactites. Does hang gliding really do anything to further our understanding of aerodynamics and apart from giving plastic and other surgeons bodies on which to improve technique does extreme skiing add to the wealth of human happiness?
Mind you, can’t think of much that squash has given to civilization either, and don’t get me started on the ridiculous claims of MCC bores for their tedious game.
To sum up: everyone should swim.
Job done!
It was as if there was something going on that I didn’t know about. A holiday, a fiesta proclaimed to all the world, but kept a secret from me so that the influx of people determined to enjoy themselves could come as a nice surprise to me!
The generally rotten weather of the past few days has given way to better. Not wonderful, but better. The sun is shining fitfully and, as long as you are within the shine of that distant star then you can convince yourself that it is early summer.
Once walk into the shadow and you can easily convince yourself that winter is not yet over! Having said that I was wearing a short sleeved shirt today. I was, of course alone in affecting this form of dress, all the other inhabitants of Catalonia being firmly and snugly tucked up in their full winter wear!
There was also a sharp wind which whipped up the sand on the beach into fast moving clouds. The shape of the beach, or at least its profile, has been altered by the work which has been done near to the first line of flats. I have no idea what they are up to, but they are quite flamboyant with the number of earth (sand) movers and the general chaos they have caused. They have made major inroads (almost literally) into the partially grass covered dune which is just outside the exit from our flats on to the beach.
The wind and the clouds of sand were doing their best to transform the man made incursions into something far more natural. Give the wind a few more days and the profile will look as though it has been caused by wind erosion over the centuries!
The wind brings out the surfers in force. Not those namby-pamby board surfers, but rather those more showy wind surfers who use the curved kites to give them speed and height. The velocity that one of the guys (? Difficult to tell) managed to achieve on his board is usually only matched by those infinitely irritating motorised ski bikes or whatever they are called. Cutting through the waves at that speed must be exhilarating and I am quite prepared to leave the feeling that these intrepid or stupid (depending on your point of view) sportspeople get to my imagination rather than my experience.
I regard them as a sort of moving landscape feature that makes my contemplation of the sea and surrounding areas more interesting.
As television overload makes the ordinary unacceptably boring in short measure so people, with what I can only describe as a death wish, pander to our jaded appetites and produce ‘sports’ which stay just this side of the suicidal.
I suppose that all skiing is a form of going down a mountain side, but on conventional ski slopes there is usually a covering of snow and chasms and ledges and rocks usually indicate that you are falling off a cliff rather than engaging in sporting activity.
Now, of course, there is a sort of skiing which looks to me like falling and it is a very well organized (or state funded) television company which doesn’t resort to gratuitous pictures of some idiot jumping from a helicopter onto a pinnacle summit and then skiing and falling his way to the bottom.
I suppose my shouted advice to the rescuers scrambling towards the crumpled figure that they “leave him (it really is usually a him) there to die,” is a little unfeeling and unworthy of a member of one of the caring professions!
When you have sat on a Turkish beach and tried to explain the way to play squash to a frankly disbelieving Turk, you begin to realise that your sport and perhaps all sport is innately ridiculous. I did try and explain badminton to the same Turk but after my description of squash I think he regarded me as some sort of Baron Munchausen figure! You can get injured in these sports – one of my squash partners smashed a ball into my eye – but generally the greatest damage to the system is done by the drinks in the bar after the game!
With potholing, sky diving, extreme skiing and the like the risks are fairly obvious. If anything goes wrong in potholing then people have to put their lives at risk to rescue the ‘sportsmen’ and the rescue services are generally funded by the public.
I suppose that this is a ‘slippery slope’ argument. The same could be said for those who deliberately adopt a life style where food, drink and drugs play a significantly adverse part in the health of the participant.
How boring, the argument goes, it would all be if we all played safe. I’m not sure just what potholing has given to the world, discounting nice pictures of stalagmites and stalactites. Does hang gliding really do anything to further our understanding of aerodynamics and apart from giving plastic and other surgeons bodies on which to improve technique does extreme skiing add to the wealth of human happiness?
Mind you, can’t think of much that squash has given to civilization either, and don’t get me started on the ridiculous claims of MCC bores for their tedious game.
To sum up: everyone should swim.
Job done!
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