Optimism and other delusions!

 

 

 

 

The go-to-bed-for-a-few-hours-and-get-better approach to general feelings of cruddiness appears to have worked once again, and my swim this morning (Saturday) was conducted with the usual spirited resentfulness that characterises my approach to such mindless (but vital) exercise. 

     My 1500m were swum in my customary lane, but alas, not alone.  As the weekends have an opening time an hour later than usual, there tends to be something of a clash of ‘earlies’ and ‘laters’ which means that some lanes have three swimmers in them following a rough oblong pattern to ensure swimmer separation.

     As I swim in a lane next to the edge of the pool (with the steps jutting out a bit into the lane space) people are generally dissuaded from joining me, as there is the more than likely chance of hitting the steps on passing.  However, this does mean that if someone does join me then the swimming becomes a little more tense, as the swimmer nearer the side swerves out slightly to compensate for the obstruction of the steps and then stands a chance of hitting the arm of the swimmer going in the other direction.

     As I am something of a ‘fixture’ in the side lane early in the morning, I feel ever so slightly resentful if I am joined by someone.  Anyone.  But I tell myself, such vicissitudes are character enhancing – and it makes my eventual cup of tea and baguette even more of a just dessert.  Which prepares one for lunch.

     As we hadn’t been out for a few days (see: ill health above) we decided to go for a menu del dia in spite of the fact that the cost of these meals increases absurdly during the weekends.  One must attend to one’s little pleasures.

     My choices were: vino tinto y Casera, with ice and lemon, to drink; a first course of fideau with alioli, and a second course of galtas cooked with Cognac, the meal completed with lemon cream pie, and iced coffee – all for less than, well, even with the Euro at 86p (70p when I first came to Catalonia!) just under nineteen quid!  At the weekend!  And people ask me why I moved here!  Well, actually they don’t – and with what is going on with the so-called governance of the United Kingdom at the moment, that is hardly surprising!

     We ate outside, as the restaurant we ate in is situated at the bottom of parallel residential blocks, and that gives the paseo between them a very pleasant breeze.  The weather has changed somewhat over the last few days and the temperature is cooler – though we are still using the fans to make the temperature pleasant.  The seasons are changing, and we have been forecast to have tormentas this afternoon, though it is now going into the early evening and not a drop of rain, nor a sound of distant thunder so far!

 

 

 

 

 

 

Monday sees the first of the autumn season of hospital visits (as an outpatient I rush to add) and I expect little from this one, but much from the one next month.  However misplaced such hope might turn out to be!

O God The News!

 

Never let it be said that the bloody awful weather dictates my attitude towards life.  However, I am in a bloody awful mood to match!

The news from Britain as the shambolic ‘government’ of talentless Conservative (have you any idea how difficult it was for me to put a capital letter at the start of that word) lower than vermin, self-seeking, inept, traitorous, bastards descend lower and lower into the farce that is their approach to Brexit.

And my contempt for May grows.  And, no, I have no sympathy for her as she is savaged by the liars and cowards with whom she has surrounded herself.  Whenever I see her robotically defending the indefensible and fell a smidgeon of sympathy, I only have to remember her tenure at the Home Office and the heartless and ILLEGAL processes that she put in place to banish any fellow feeling for her ‘suffering’ now.  Her on-going failure at least gives a re-reading of the “all politicians’ careers end in failure” as hers has been failure in its more continuous manner.  To say nothing of her dancing.

It is a sign of desperation and picking through the dregs that Pixie Cheeks Gove has been asked to take on the barbed wire rimmed, poisoned chalice of Brexit Secretary.  But he will only accept if he is allowed to renegotiate!  What world are these people living in?  Are they so secure in the foreign investments that they can look on with equanimity as the rest (the large rest) of us suffer?

I know that I do not command a great deal of sympathy as I spend my retirement by the side of the Med here in Castelldefels – but my pension is paid in pounds sterling and when I first came to Catalonia a Euro was 70p; now a Euro is 87p which means that my pension has been reduced by 20%, a fifth of my buying power has been wiped out largely because of the stupidity of a discontented electorate listening to the lies of the Brexiteers and believing that those Brexiteer had access to whole herds of magic unicorns who would make all manner of things well!  Rubbish.  Just recite the names of the most prominent Brexiteer and then ask the age-old question, “Would you buy a used car” from any of them?  Of course, you wouldn’t, so why entrust the future of your country to the sick imaginations of these failures?

And that scum that has resigned . . . and I paused there because my dictatorial watch informed me that I had been sitting for too long and I needed to move about for a minute!   

Perhaps its is just as well I walked away from the keys.  What do I achieve by venting my spleen?  I suppose it could be considered cathartic, but apart from keeping my blood pressure within the green range, cui bono?

It is, however, ironic that the “onlie begetters” of Brexit are generally not in government any more and therefore are not dealing with the mess that they have made!  Nothing like denying responsibility, but I suppose they have the superb example of Cameron to take as their guide for thoroughly selfish irresponsibility!

And the back wheel of my bike has been punctured or something because it was thoroughly flat when I attempted to ride it to my Catalan lesson this morning.  And now I have to go and pick it up in the pouring rain.  Again.  Much as I like the bike, I have to admit that I have been singularly unlucky with the damn thing.  I have barely gone more than a fortnight riding the thing without some reason to take it back to my bike man.  The broken spokes have become a running joke and the suspension is suspect too.

I am now thoroughly regretting that I have ordered the updated, fat wheel version of the bike that I have.  It will have improved brakes and gears, with a sexy paint job (sigh!), a full colour display and a back pannier, or at least a framework to put one on, and the thing will have a sort of brake light as well.  As you can see, I am easily persuaded with the trivia and don’t really care about the important engineering of the thing!

The new bike should/might arrive in time for Christmas and will give me something to worry about, while not being able to ride the thing because of poor weather.  It is all in the anticipation and not the reality!

Anyway, to finish off a near perfect day, after I have collected my bike, I then have to return to the centre of town for a dental appointment.  If a day is going to be bad then it does make sense to concentrate all the badness so that you can enjoy it a schadenfreude sort of way.

To keep my sanity, I have not gone out of my way to find what new infantile lunacy the so-called Head of the Free World has been up to.  That can wait until I am stronger!