Sunday, February 15, 2015



I’m not totally convinced that tumble-drying footwear is necessarily the most sensible thing to do.  At the moment the kitchen sounds as though there is on-going demolition but at least the noise is some form of payback for the unutterably odiously noisy dogs owned by the neighbours.  I do hope that the rumblings are destroying the tranquillity of their Sunday in the same way that the barking of their curs both wakes and irritates us.
            I have found that the hypersonic dog scarers work better on cats.  Or at least one particular cat who scarpered instantly the scarer was aimed at it.  One of his fellow intrusive felines did nothing but look at me as I pressed the button on the damn thing ever more fiercely.  And there is never a water pistol to hand when you need one!  Though there is a selection of them at the foot of the stairs.  And believe me they are used with the accuracy which comes with constant use and hatred.
            Meanwhile, the jostling shoes have forced open the door of the dryer and turned it off.  That should tell us something, but I have merely shut the door and repressed the button.  After all, I would rather wait for my sandals to be dried, rather than walking in any of my other shoes and crippling myself.  It is true that I am so used to wearing sandals nowadays that wearing sports shoes or leather shoes means that I suffer.  I have become an elegant hippy; would that I were capable of growing a ponytail, but alas those hirsute days are long fallen away, along with the hair.  And not, I hasten to add that I would ever in my most remote and interesting nightmares have ever grown a ponytail!

Today is one of those dull Sundays when any coherent action seems surplus to requirements.  One of those days when initiative is drained away with the light and sitting doing nothing seems like a positive and vibrant alternative.  As I am still waiting for my sandals to dry (see above) I am trapped in my more than comfortable recliner and the most elaborate potential plan of action that I can envisage is whether or not to have another cup of tea.
            And there, with tea, is another potential crisis.  The Most Expensive Tea Shop in the World, here in Castelldefels has treated me in what I can only describe as a shabby manner.  I discovered said shop and found out that hidden among the tins of excellent coffee where tins of superb tea.  I was able to replenish my stocks of Earl Grey and made the exciting discovery of a super-charged form of Earl Grey called Earl Grey Rojo.  The scent of this tea, after the tin had been shaken and then opened to give you the full effect of the released aroma was intoxicating.  I bought some at once.  Had counselling to cope with the price and became firmly addicted.  And now, just when I have entered the ‘full addict’ stage, they have stopped selling it.  And the new shop near the central car park which I, personally, have forced to buy in Earl Grey tea just for me, has failed to find the ‘hard stuff’ and only stock the black Earl Grey – a form of Earl Grey that I consider the methadone equivalent to the hard stuff heroin quality of the Earl Grey rojo.  I also failed to find the rojo in Barcelona the last time I went there and went to a very poncey teashop.  I begin to despair and will have to turn to the dark Internet to feed my habit!
            I do hope that the government does not have internet crawlers that are programmed to respond to key words and track the user, as I fear that I have used enough hard drug terminology in the previous paragraph to get the little electronic creatures tingling with excitement.  Well, that’s one way to increase readership I suppose.  Easier than improving the writing!

Toni is eager for lunch as, on a Sunday, our meal comes from a pollo de last restaurant which is run by the husband of an ex-colleague of mine.  I am instructed to take a picture of the outside and then Toni will add it to his growing list of places to eat in Castelldefels.  I think he has most of next week sorted out as he steadily makes his way to double figures in his recommendations.
            If we go on our long threatened holiday to Gran Canaria he can add an international flavour to his blog by having a second on the place where we eat there.  Though he is not keen and rather despises Canarian food and discards it utterly!

Although I am steadily reading fair quality trash on my Kindle I realise that most of my reading over the past few months has been in art books.  Some of them have been outstanding and I will start to review them here.  But today is too lazy a day to start so the first will have to be on Monday.
            Though thinking about it Monday is going to be taken up with visiting various places with Irene.  But, as I have mentioned elsewhere, writing ‘intentions’ is the first stage to their actual completion in real life.  So I will take my thoughts and rely on the persuasive power of the written word to ensure my fingers work their magic tomorrow.
            We shall see.  As always.
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