Yesterday was the official start of the biting season as I now have a swelling on the underside of the lower wrist of my left hand.
With an almost superhuman strength of will I have not scratched and have even treated it to a small quantity of my jealously guarded supply of Savlon purchased on my last trip to Britain.
The swelling is, however, more akin to a horsefly bite than a mosquito and I have vivid memories of my last such bite remaining a nuisance for a considerable period of time.
We have seen mosquitoes throughout the winter and have been appalled that these flying fiends have managed to survive even the coldest (and it has been cold this winter) periods when they should all have died off. It bodes very ill for the coming summer. I can only hope that I have not becomes too acclimatized to the country and that the mozzies still go for Catalan rather than Celtic blood!
The Neighbours from Hell recently re-installed next door have been suspiciously quiet: no flaming rows; no smashing of crockery; no television outside; no concourse of spotty youths shouting and smoking. All quiet. Too quiet.
I realize that I am tempting fate by articulating this good news and that the neighbours may now unleash the full extent of their inconsideration – but two days residence and no complaints is a startling record!
Which is more than can be said for the dogs. Our other neighbours have realized that their animals are pests and they seem to have done something about it. The real dog who barked in a stentorian way has been suppressed somehow and we are left with the wheezy exhalation of the rat-dog who trundles about with his hind legs in a wheeled chariot. I am prepared to forgive him his noise as he looks quite as grotesque as anything painted by Bosch or Breughel. That surely is punishment enough!
Forgiving is, however, something that I am not prepared to do for the dog the street adjacent to us. This animal was left outside the house while his unthinking owners were elsewhere and, to show his desolation, the animal howled and barked incessantly. From my vantage point on the third floor I could see a procession of irate neighbours marching up to the front gate of the offending house and ringing the bell. They obviously got no answer and sometimes while they stared at the gate in frustration they would be joined by another neighbour on a similar mission. They would then have a conversation in which, even at a distance, one could tell that incredulous outrage was the key tone that they were adopting. I feel sure that the owners are going to get an earful sometime today!
The tidying of the third floor is stalled but, as a guest might arrive tomorrow I am sure that there will be a sudden boost in energy and things will be thrown into the cupboard, or even, if I am feeling strong be put away properly.
Lunch was in a restaurant which divides opinion: right from wrong; mine from Toni’s. In spite of an extensive menu Toni decided there was nothing he liked and so plumped for tallerinas and patatas bravas. He liked neither. I, on the other hand had macaronis putenesca (!) and the second plate was cheek of pork with potato and onions. It was delicious. Ah well! I don’t think we will be going back together, but, yet again I have had an excellent meal there!
Taking a short walk along the beach revealed houses for sale which met all my criteria: modern, on the beach with own swimming pool. So, if anyone out there has the €1.7 million that I need to buy it.
Anyone?
With an almost superhuman strength of will I have not scratched and have even treated it to a small quantity of my jealously guarded supply of Savlon purchased on my last trip to Britain.
The swelling is, however, more akin to a horsefly bite than a mosquito and I have vivid memories of my last such bite remaining a nuisance for a considerable period of time.
We have seen mosquitoes throughout the winter and have been appalled that these flying fiends have managed to survive even the coldest (and it has been cold this winter) periods when they should all have died off. It bodes very ill for the coming summer. I can only hope that I have not becomes too acclimatized to the country and that the mozzies still go for Catalan rather than Celtic blood!
The Neighbours from Hell recently re-installed next door have been suspiciously quiet: no flaming rows; no smashing of crockery; no television outside; no concourse of spotty youths shouting and smoking. All quiet. Too quiet.
I realize that I am tempting fate by articulating this good news and that the neighbours may now unleash the full extent of their inconsideration – but two days residence and no complaints is a startling record!
Which is more than can be said for the dogs. Our other neighbours have realized that their animals are pests and they seem to have done something about it. The real dog who barked in a stentorian way has been suppressed somehow and we are left with the wheezy exhalation of the rat-dog who trundles about with his hind legs in a wheeled chariot. I am prepared to forgive him his noise as he looks quite as grotesque as anything painted by Bosch or Breughel. That surely is punishment enough!
Forgiving is, however, something that I am not prepared to do for the dog the street adjacent to us. This animal was left outside the house while his unthinking owners were elsewhere and, to show his desolation, the animal howled and barked incessantly. From my vantage point on the third floor I could see a procession of irate neighbours marching up to the front gate of the offending house and ringing the bell. They obviously got no answer and sometimes while they stared at the gate in frustration they would be joined by another neighbour on a similar mission. They would then have a conversation in which, even at a distance, one could tell that incredulous outrage was the key tone that they were adopting. I feel sure that the owners are going to get an earful sometime today!
The tidying of the third floor is stalled but, as a guest might arrive tomorrow I am sure that there will be a sudden boost in energy and things will be thrown into the cupboard, or even, if I am feeling strong be put away properly.
Lunch was in a restaurant which divides opinion: right from wrong; mine from Toni’s. In spite of an extensive menu Toni decided there was nothing he liked and so plumped for tallerinas and patatas bravas. He liked neither. I, on the other hand had macaronis putenesca (!) and the second plate was cheek of pork with potato and onions. It was delicious. Ah well! I don’t think we will be going back together, but, yet again I have had an excellent meal there!
Taking a short walk along the beach revealed houses for sale which met all my criteria: modern, on the beach with own swimming pool. So, if anyone out there has the €1.7 million that I need to buy it.
Anyone?
No comments:
Post a Comment