And the rain, it raineth every day!

 

A storm complete with lashing rain, thunder and totally theatrical lightning – and today serene and sunny, a more than reasonable 23ºC.  In Catalonia there is rarely that held-over spitefulness of continuing bad weather that Britain likes just to rub it in!

     Our house is not impervious to storms and Toni is usually quick to lower the outside blinds to shield us from water ingress.  But yesterday, ingress it did, and we are still trying to work out exactly how and where.  That does not sound as stupid as it writes as there was a puddle in front of the television which was more like a self-contained lake than something fed by tributary streams.  There is also a disconcertingly elegant (if unnecessary) extended streak of a dried water track on one of the inside walls, where our wall adjoins the next house.  That is a mystery deserving of more investigation.

     The basic problem of the house is that it is, I suspect, shoddily made and our landlords have done virtually nothing to upkeep the place over the years.  The only time they have ventured to do something is when actual human life is threatened, as for example in eventually dealing with the large broken branch of one of our neighbour’s trees overshadowing our garden and swinging out over the pavement, or some of the stone cladding on the house breaking away and falling.  God alone know when the electrics of the house have last been tested and the pipes looked at.  Certainly, the front of the house has not been painted for decades and looks set to be dingy for decades more.

     We do not have double glazing, and the window frames are ageing wood, and I suspect that the glass in the window is more suitable for framing domestic art than keeping out the elements.

     Why, you may well ask, do we not move?  And the answer is the old three word response: location, location, location.  And so, we make do, and mop.

 

 

I did not trust the pool to be open this morning and so I had an extra hour or so in bed.  Our mobile phones are full of pictures of the the main road in the centre of Castelldefels looking more like a shallow canal with cars ploughing through as if they are hoping to give a good watery display for any passing Ticktocker with an active camera, ready to post.

     There are certain key spots in Castelldefels that flood even with a moderate amount of rain, so they become impassable with a decent storm.  As much of Castelldefels is built at or even below sea level, and a substantial part of it is built on a reclaimed marsh, it is hardly surprising that water tends to stay in place rather than drain away – and one of the places that it remains, is opposite the entrance to the Pool, and indeed in the car part of the Pool itself.

     One of the civic messages that I read this morning states that there are likely to be ‘problems’ with flooding during part of today.  The flood warning extended from last night up until 6 am this morning, so there will have been some adventurous driving needed to get around – at last justifying the high-rise 4 by 4s that so many of the affluent affect in this area.  Although, thinking about it for more than a moment, the state of many of our roads also calls for rugged suspension, where roots of adjacent pine trees cause roads to be switchbacks!

     

 

     And visitors are arriving this Sunday!  With one threatening retribution on whoever is around at the time unless there is a goodly amount of autumnal sun!  We will have to see what we can do.

 

 

First, catch your metaphor!

 

The Internet is sometimes like an over eager and terminally earnest student scientist friend who tries to answer seriously and comprehensively a casual question like, “So, how do neutron bombs actually work then?”  And fails to notice the growing hysteria in his listeners as they realize that they are stuck in a comprehensively incomprehensible monologue.  And I speak from experience!

So, I was thinking about my activity in our outside pool.  Our pool is surrounded by trees, including the pine trees that give their name to our district and, although these trees are evergreen they also discard their needles throughout the year – and a fair quantity of them fall into our pool.  We do pay for our community pool to be cleaned and serviced, but the constant rain of pine needles and cones is a problem on a daily basis and our pool persons are not that frequent visitors.

If you are a regular swimmer you will know how unsettlingly irritating a single strand of free-floating hair can be, so imagine the shock of a series of sharp pointed pine needles can be – especially if you have just come from our stretch of the Med where for the past week or so we have been dealing with an outbreak of medusas (jellyfish) that do sting, so the instinctive reaction to anything sharp in water is to fear future pain.

My major swim is in our local pool (medusa free) where I generally swim a metric mile and feel quite smug about it, so our community pool is more relaxed semi-swimming.  And this is where the thoughts at the beginning of this writing come in.

As I dislike being pricked by pine needles, I of course, assume that no one else likes it either.  I have therefore taken, in my community pool swims, to skim the surface collecting the pine needles and throwing them out of the water.

From time to time I perform (what I consider to be) an elegant surface dive to retrieve and discard the seed cases and fractured cones that litter the floor of the pool.  So, in my mind, after the mindless lengths that I do in the swimming pool, I feel that I have a sort of purpose in our community pool.  Just like those fish that are kept in aquaria solely to clean the place up.

And I should have left it at that. 

But no, I decided to examine my image in a little more detail and typed a fateful enquiry into the box and got sucked in to a whole wealth of information in the same way that I did every time I ever ventured to look inside the Guinness Book of Records.  But the digression with the Book of Records is of a different nature to that in the Internet.  I have started off trying to find out the size of the largest uncut diamond ever found and ended up being fascinated by the wing span of birds.  With the Internet you tend to go deeper into the same thing in a profoundly superficial way!

I now know more about sand sifting stars, gobies, Cory doras, freshwater catfish, bluestreak cleaner wrass, grandpa snails, suckermouth catfish and Nerite snails, than is strictly necessary for a quiet life.  I have also discovered an intense community of fish lovers who are truly preoccupied with the problems of aquarium cleaning.  I mean really, truly, preoccupied!

 Think that I have realized a valuable life lesson: metaphors and similes are approximations and, unless you are a Shakespeare, the depth of your metaphor only reaches down a single level of association and the further you research your initial thought the further, like the chance meeting on a dissecting-table of a sewing-machine and an umbrella - so to speak.