A win to savour

I never thought that I would ever sit in a restaurant in Catalonia and hear the chant of “Es – pañ – ya!” echo around me!

But I have sat in that restaurant. The victory of Spain in the European Cup was accompanied but much nationalistic shouting; though I have to say that I thought I noticed some Catalans sitting as quieter tables with a bemused smile on their faces while their more demonstrative countrymen were being very vocal. To my utter horror I actually heard the assembled delirious Spaniards even attempt a version of ‘Eviva España’ and was correspondingly delighted to find out that they knew even fewer of the words than their English counterparts! I have to admit that it sounded a little grotesque to hear an ill sung anthem of British boozers abroad ill sung by the people who were expressing their staunch patriotism.

Both the British and Spanish media have made much of the fact (as they see it) that support for the Spanish team has crossed all the cultural and political boundaries in the country and has fostered a real sense of national pride. You have to live in Catalonia before you can understand what an odd sight it is to see Spanish flags publicly waved in solidarity rather than as a political insult. Long may such a feeling of togetherness remain, but, personally, I don’t think it will see out the week!

The match was excellent and I saw how involved I was in the outcome when I realised that I had been shredding paper napkins in my anxiety. I think that this must have been some sort of unconscious tribute to those Dickensian figures that shred delicate cambric handkerchiefs at times of stress!

The only spectre at the feast for a victory that was richly deserved by the Spanish team, who had numerous chances which could have been converted into goals, was found in the opening ceremony for the game.

It is one of the facts of international stereotyping that Austrians never ignore a chance to parade eighteenth century foppishness as what they imagine to be a glorious symbol of the one time greatness.

To an Austrian any occasion would not be complete without effete figures clad in tight fitting silk breeches, silk stockings, satin shoes, brocade waistcoat and ornate white wigs lurking about. Sure enough, give or take a few sartorial details, the opening ceremony had such figures inexplicably waltzing around moving conical colanders which were covered in multi coloured buboes representing the national colours of the participating nations. The erratic paths of the colanders seemed to be contained by what looked from an aerial shot of the stadium to be a pattern derived from an uninteresting crop circle.

The camera shorts attempted to give vitality and coherence to this display but did not succeed. As I watched this vacuous posturing the cold hand of fear clutched my imagination and I thought about what we might have planned for the opening of the Olympics!

Talking of premonitions, my cactus, to my prejudiced eye seems to be getting healthier. The three parts of my prickly plant seem to be stouter – but this may be self delusion. Although I vowed not to look at it for a few days to give it time to find itself and start a new life, I find myself studying it like some ancient Greek looking for auguries in the entrails of some unfortunate beast.

Since the cactus is intimately connected to my ex-school I do not know what would be the most appropriate direction for the plant to go: flourish or fail, both extremes can be incorporated into a more than satisfactory prognostication for future progress.

As indeed can any state in between.

Wonderful thing literary analysis!