After an uneasy night’s sleep I can still feel the effects of the liquid meal on Saturday. It is certainly a sign of the times when I can’t shrug off the effects of overindulgence. Or is it called growing up?
It’s something of a grey day today and I trust that it is not a sign that the weather is going to change just at the point that my cousin Judith comes to visit. Castelldefels it at its best when it is experienced out of doors. Like any other sea side resort it is somewhat disappointing if you have to start looking for sheltered amusements.
It is perhaps significant that the local newsagent has a carousel of postcards, most of which have sights from Barcelona on them. Apart from the beach I do not think that there is very much of architectural interest in Castelldefels. Anything with a touch of history has been ruthlessly pulled down to make way for more flats and holiday homes. In the making of money from the Mediterranean Sea coast the Catalans have been anything other than sentimental in their preservation of the natural environment.
This works both ways of course. Left to its own devices the long beach which stretches in front of our flat would not look as it does. Its flawless expanse is carefully nurtured by massive machinery which sifts and moves and cleans the sand in its nocturnal wanderings along the shore. Squads of fluorescent yellow jacketed workers scour the sand to remove the more glaring debris of tourists and various vehicles of doubtful efficacy patrol the strand. This is what is necessary when you lack the sort of cleansing tide which sweeps the beaches in Britain. On the other hand we have sun!
At present we are fighting a losing battle with mosquitoes. We are living in a state of siege with doors carefully closed and spray liberally used to discourage our winged visitors from drinking their fill, but still the cry is they come in battalions armed (if I may mix my quotations) smirking at our chemical dissuasions and supping where they please. I am convinced that a substantial proportion of my blood must be composed of whatever these pesky insects inject to make their chosen liquor flow more easily!
We are taking further steps. I don’t know what it’s doing to the insects, but it’s making our lives virtually unbreathable!
And I’ve got another Spanish lesson tomorrow.
It’s something of a grey day today and I trust that it is not a sign that the weather is going to change just at the point that my cousin Judith comes to visit. Castelldefels it at its best when it is experienced out of doors. Like any other sea side resort it is somewhat disappointing if you have to start looking for sheltered amusements.
It is perhaps significant that the local newsagent has a carousel of postcards, most of which have sights from Barcelona on them. Apart from the beach I do not think that there is very much of architectural interest in Castelldefels. Anything with a touch of history has been ruthlessly pulled down to make way for more flats and holiday homes. In the making of money from the Mediterranean Sea coast the Catalans have been anything other than sentimental in their preservation of the natural environment.
This works both ways of course. Left to its own devices the long beach which stretches in front of our flat would not look as it does. Its flawless expanse is carefully nurtured by massive machinery which sifts and moves and cleans the sand in its nocturnal wanderings along the shore. Squads of fluorescent yellow jacketed workers scour the sand to remove the more glaring debris of tourists and various vehicles of doubtful efficacy patrol the strand. This is what is necessary when you lack the sort of cleansing tide which sweeps the beaches in Britain. On the other hand we have sun!
At present we are fighting a losing battle with mosquitoes. We are living in a state of siege with doors carefully closed and spray liberally used to discourage our winged visitors from drinking their fill, but still the cry is they come in battalions armed (if I may mix my quotations) smirking at our chemical dissuasions and supping where they please. I am convinced that a substantial proportion of my blood must be composed of whatever these pesky insects inject to make their chosen liquor flow more easily!
We are taking further steps. I don’t know what it’s doing to the insects, but it’s making our lives virtually unbreathable!
And I’ve got another Spanish lesson tomorrow.
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