Today a sea breeze made joining the human joints cooking on the beach just a little more enjoyable. The sea is of a temperature where not even the most sensitive need gasp as they venture in. There was a space next to the sea in an almost direct line from the little gate onto the beach from the flat so we didn’t have to wander about on ‘our’ beach before we settled.
In defiance of the universal lethargy which surrounded me I actually made use of my time on the beach and read The Week. This invaluable publication (which I recommend without reservation to all and sundry) gives you a fascinating digest of what has been happening in all the most obvious areas of life as seen from the British perspective. It is, of necessity, highly selective but seductive at the same time: so many titbits of politics, the arts, sport and business etc. that you end up wanting more, yet perversely glad that there isn’t any. If you see what I mean!
Lunch was, eventually – given Toni’s fastidiousness – in a restaurant a little further down the road than we usually go and I thought was excellent.
A tropical salad with fruit, sea food and a caviar sauce followed by a leg of turkey with half roast potatoes in their skins with a rosemary and cheese stuffed tomato. The dessert was my favourite of Tarta Santiago dressed with cream, chocolate sauce and kiwi fruit. A café con hielo to finish a truly satisfying meal.
Toni was unimpressed (he had to be his going to this restaurant was a grudging compromise) and grumbled about his lamb. This was a large lump of succulent meat with bones sticking out at artistic angles. I know it was succulent because he offloaded some of it on to me. Toni likes slivers of pork or beef or lamb so chunky excess leaves him cold. I think that I have had my full intake of meat for the next week or two as my turkey leg was not one from a bird that had ever considered flight!
My continuing education into the Catalan arts has now reached the musician Ferran Sor. This disk comes in the series of book/CD presentations linked to the centenary of the Palau Musica Catalana and courtesy of La Vangardia (at a price!)
Ferran Sor (1778-1839)
was a composer and guitarist who is described as one of the most important composers and musicians in the formation of Catalan culture in terms of music. I have never heard of him- though I am attempting to force my memory into a belief that I have heard of a French composer with a name something like that. But then I would, wouldn’t I!
I have not found anything in the music of Catalonia (in my view) to match the wealth of talent in painting. Some of the music has been interesting, especially one piece which to my ears sounded like something that Vaughan Williams might have written, but nothing so arresting as the visual arts offer in Catalonia.
I wonder if, in five or six years time when I might look back on that last paragraph I will twitch with embarrassment at my lack of perception, or simply smile wryly at my pretension. I am prepared to wait and see.
I have had a frightening letter which begins:
“Dear Customer,
You already enjoy the services provided to you by your BBVA branch in Spain, but did you know that BBVA also have branches in the U.K?”
Quite part from the fact that I object to BBVA referring to me a ‘Dear’ anything, I found the first part of the sentence in the letter a downright lie and the second part a terrifying threat. Talk about the enemy within; it is hardly surprising that the exchange rate between the pound and the euro is at an all time low with that bunch of blundering incompetents actually having insinuated their way into the British banking system.
As soon as it is possible I will escape from the parasitic, thieving clutches of BBVA and the chilling thought of putting a single British penny near their grasping money grubbing fingers is enough to drive one to drink – which, as the sun must now be over whatever mast one has to consider before imbibing, seems like a damn good idea. Such thrillingly sinister thoughts about the creeping evil which is my bank deserve a chilled glass of Rioja on the balcony while I regain my equilibrium!
Cheers!
In defiance of the universal lethargy which surrounded me I actually made use of my time on the beach and read The Week. This invaluable publication (which I recommend without reservation to all and sundry) gives you a fascinating digest of what has been happening in all the most obvious areas of life as seen from the British perspective. It is, of necessity, highly selective but seductive at the same time: so many titbits of politics, the arts, sport and business etc. that you end up wanting more, yet perversely glad that there isn’t any. If you see what I mean!
Lunch was, eventually – given Toni’s fastidiousness – in a restaurant a little further down the road than we usually go and I thought was excellent.
A tropical salad with fruit, sea food and a caviar sauce followed by a leg of turkey with half roast potatoes in their skins with a rosemary and cheese stuffed tomato. The dessert was my favourite of Tarta Santiago dressed with cream, chocolate sauce and kiwi fruit. A café con hielo to finish a truly satisfying meal.
Toni was unimpressed (he had to be his going to this restaurant was a grudging compromise) and grumbled about his lamb. This was a large lump of succulent meat with bones sticking out at artistic angles. I know it was succulent because he offloaded some of it on to me. Toni likes slivers of pork or beef or lamb so chunky excess leaves him cold. I think that I have had my full intake of meat for the next week or two as my turkey leg was not one from a bird that had ever considered flight!
My continuing education into the Catalan arts has now reached the musician Ferran Sor. This disk comes in the series of book/CD presentations linked to the centenary of the Palau Musica Catalana and courtesy of La Vangardia (at a price!)
Ferran Sor (1778-1839)
was a composer and guitarist who is described as one of the most important composers and musicians in the formation of Catalan culture in terms of music. I have never heard of him- though I am attempting to force my memory into a belief that I have heard of a French composer with a name something like that. But then I would, wouldn’t I!I have not found anything in the music of Catalonia (in my view) to match the wealth of talent in painting. Some of the music has been interesting, especially one piece which to my ears sounded like something that Vaughan Williams might have written, but nothing so arresting as the visual arts offer in Catalonia.
I wonder if, in five or six years time when I might look back on that last paragraph I will twitch with embarrassment at my lack of perception, or simply smile wryly at my pretension. I am prepared to wait and see.
I have had a frightening letter which begins:
“Dear Customer,
You already enjoy the services provided to you by your BBVA branch in Spain, but did you know that BBVA also have branches in the U.K?”
Quite part from the fact that I object to BBVA referring to me a ‘Dear’ anything, I found the first part of the sentence in the letter a downright lie and the second part a terrifying threat. Talk about the enemy within; it is hardly surprising that the exchange rate between the pound and the euro is at an all time low with that bunch of blundering incompetents actually having insinuated their way into the British banking system.
As soon as it is possible I will escape from the parasitic, thieving clutches of BBVA and the chilling thought of putting a single British penny near their grasping money grubbing fingers is enough to drive one to drink – which, as the sun must now be over whatever mast one has to consider before imbibing, seems like a damn good idea. Such thrillingly sinister thoughts about the creeping evil which is my bank deserve a chilled glass of Rioja on the balcony while I regain my equilibrium!
Cheers!
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