Outside & Inside

I am what I am

Try as I might by laying in the sun for inordinate periods of time, I have to admit to myself that I will never look Spanish.  I might get a little browner than the people I have left at home, but I will never blend in with the local population.

            People speak English to me because they assume that I am German!  Which tells you a lot about national perception.

            Toni also does not look Spanish, so when we go to a restaurant which is not one of our usual haunts we are regarded as guire (foreigners).  Usually this makes very little difference, but when it comes to being ripped off, we are obviously fair game.

            Now it could be that it was a genuine oversight on his part, but today’s waiter brought us only the a la carte menu and omitted the cheaper and better value menu del dia.  When questioned he brought the other menus immediately, but it left a bad taste in the mouth.  Not a good thing when you are looking forward to your meal.

            To be fair, I would have to say that this exploitation is rare in Castelldefels which, when you think about it, makes all sorts of sense.  Castelldefels is a seaside town and relies for a chunk of its revenue on the tourist trade.  We act for Barcelona in very much the same way that Barry Island did and does for Cardiff; a seaside resort within easy reach of a big city.  We expect people not only to come, enjoy themselves and spend, but also to do so on a continuing basis.  Not giving the right menus to customers (whoever they are and wherever they come from) is short sighted and mean spirited.

            We will not go back, even though the other waiters were quick, friendly and efficient.  We have, as Toni’s blog points out, plenty of options for a decent meal and we do not have to give second chances.

Giving blood

This title was both literal and metaphorical today.

            My annual blood test happened at 8.00 am this morning and I am glad to report that I cycled to the surgery to give my two ampoules.  I managed to time it so that I arrived with four minutes to spare before they opened the doors.

            Perhaps I ought to explain.  Blood testing takes place on a Thursday and happens as soon as the door opens.  This means that when you get there a motley crew of the unwell are waiting like something out of a Bosch painting.  There are people there who Want To Be First In, and lurk with intent ready to press their way to the front of the queue.

            This attitude is fun to watch because as soon as the assembled multitude is inside an authoritarian figure in a white coat points to the wall outside the office which gives you the little sticky labels to put on the ampoules and starts reading out the names.  As soon as she (it was a she this time) calls out a name the owner of the name is expected to scurry towards the wall and get in line.  This is also fun as some of the patients have long ago lost the ability to scurry, and indeed to hear properly – so there is a certain amount of good natured (ironic) confusion (chaos) before the action starts.

            Some folk revert to school attitudes and bleat their recognition of their names while being severely ignored by the relentless white coat.

            I was ‘done’ relatively quickly and painlessly and the pleasure of passing so many people waiting for their extraction lasted right up until I got to my bike and realised that I had left my bathing costume at home.  As my plan was to go straight from the doctor’s to the swimming pool and then return home, I felt slightly miffed.

            I made the best of a bad job and went a different way home, collected my bathers without waking Toni and cycled back the way I had come for my swim.

            I have now made an executive decision, now that I have a watch that can do that sort of thing, to swim a measured metric mile each day.  That almost worked today, but the watch decided to stop counting the lengths after just 50m.  I still have not worked out why it works sometimes and not at others.  I will just have to check after a few lengths and see that it is counting.

            I have resigned myself to the understanding that cutting edge technology always needs a helping hand.  Just think of printers.  No, thinking about it, don’t think about printers, it’s not good for your stress levels!

Poetry please

The meeting of the Poetry Group in Barcelona last night was excellent with a slight change to the way that the evening is usually planned.

            I read out my latest poem, Lessons? and was pleased by the response to the last lines, but found myself explaining the references.  I think that I need to insert a few lines before the present start of the poem to make it clear.  The references are solely British and perhaps I need to open the poem out a little and make the conflict which produced those holes more explicit.

            You can decide by reading the poem as it is at present at http://smrnewpoems.blogspot.com.es/ your feedback will be greatly appreciated!

            I’m not sure if the freewrite that we did during the evening or the ‘exercise’ we completed will find their way into poems, but I throw nothing away.  I am constantly amazed at how the most inconsequential jottings can sometimes suggest productive avenues to explore.

Email amnesia

The contrast between emails and letters have been discussed at length over the years, but I want to concentrate on one aspect that seems to effect me.

            I check my email most days and I try and do my ‘housekeeping’ fairly regularly; in other words I read, delete and save religiously.  But I have noticed that I have a large conceptual blind spot.

            When I read an email from a friend or colleague that needs a reply I have two ways of approaching this task.  The first is fairly straightforward, I type an immediate reply.  The second is more complex and altogether more worrying.  In this approach I ‘assume’ a reply but don’t actually type it out.  Perhaps there is something pressing that I have to do and I tell myself that it will be done ‘soon.’  Too often that soon goes into another day.  I have read the email and so it no longer registers as a number waiting to be read and it no longer appears in the list in bold asking for my attention.

            By day three I assume that I have actually sent it.

            Embarrassingly this has happened with Irene.  I even told Toni that she was going to be visiting on Saturday.  Unfortunately I didn’t convey this information to Irene as an actual response to her.

            Please, someone out there, tell me that I am not alone in this approach!  I am hoping that recognition of this syndrome is a major part of the way towards its cure!

Thought, response and determination

Rain?  No obstacle!

Although I am now dedicated to the concept of the bike as a personal mode of transport – that doesn’t cover times when it is raining.  One doesn’t want to be labelled a fanatic by being seen cycling like some sort of water baby splashing along in inclement weather!  Sense and reason in all things!  It was raining.  I went for my swim by taking the car.

            And lo and behold!  There was a parking space, just outside the door of the café of the centre.  If that is not an example of the universe bending itself to personal desire, I do not know what is.  I always like it when things actually work out to my advantage.

            And I am prepared to show my gratitude by going back to my bike, just as long as the sun shines.

            Probably.

Competition!

Toni’s blog (http://catalunyaplacetoeat.blogspot.com.es/ ) goes from strength to strength and is now incorporating ‘the best of’ lists, and featuring ‘forthcoming attractions’ to whet the appetite.

            He has now passed the 500 page views stage and is rapidly approaching the once respectable number of page views for my poetry blog at http://smrnewpoems.blogspot.com.es/

            I maintain, of course I would wouldn’t I, that getting people to visit a poetry blog is ranked at the same level of difficulty as trying to play a Beethoven piano sonata while juggling Conservatives’ promises – and we all know which is the easier part of that act.

            I am grateful for those who have visited and more especially for those brave souls who have ventured opinions!  Though it is significant that those people who have given me the results of their analysis have done so via the more private method of the email rather than putting their opinions for all to see in the comment box.  Reaction is the lifeblood of public poetry, or at least of the stuff which is put on-line for consumption.  As far as I am concerned, the more comments the merrier – whatever they are like, good, bad or indifferent.  Well, probably not indifferent.  That is hard to take.

Sympathy and disgust

Firstly, my thoughts and sympathy go out to those who have lost someone in the flight crash in the French Alps.  I hope that the efforts of the search and rescue authorities bring some sort of closure for those who have suffered and will continue to suffer from this disaster.

            The families deserve our sympathy and respect.  They have to mourn and come to terms with their loss.

            It was, therefore, with something very close to disgust that I saw the Spanish Prime Minister, Rajoy, rush to the television cameras and voice some platitudes about his concern.  This is a man who runs away from the media on every occasion when questions need to be answered about the criminality of his party and his government and he has even, shamefully, given a press conference via a television screen so he could be shielded from any difficult and embarrassing questions.  This ‘politician’ has lost all credibility, has the lowest ratings of any leader, and to see him with grown up politicians from France and Germany, looking around gormlessly because he obviously understands nothing of what is being said is shaming for the Spanish people and insulting to the memory of those who died.

            His unseemly eagerness to be seen with politicians with real clout is little short of sickening and he hopes that some of their paper-thin gravitas rubs off on him.

            As I have said, my sympathy is for the friends and families of those who have lost loved ones and I only hope that they can look beyond the public posturing of politicians looking to hide their glaring imperfections and realise that there is authentic feeling among the voters who now regret putting such empty vessels into power.

What is a novel?

Apart from some thoroughly enjoyable trash in my iPad when, I ask myself, was the last time that I read a novel of note.

            There is only so long that I can justify this literary laziness because of the need to immerse myself in, at the moment, Conceptual Art and Volume 4 of my course books!

            The theoretical justification and explanation of Video, Installation and Conceptual Art are, to put it mildly, taxing.

            There are three more chapters to read note and digest and they are hard, though interesting, going.

            Wish me luck!

Mucus misery!

Digital waves

I refuse to believe, point blank, that I can possibly have a cold.  I neither want one nor, I believe, am I scheduled for one as I took my anti-flu jab like a good little boy and that should give me protection until the next one.

            I prefer to believe that I am suffering from hay fever.  This is a fairly recent development in my approach to health and an obvious reaction to some sort of pollen found only in Castelldefels.  A few pills take the pain away.  Well, at least the runny eyes and nose and the fairly cataclysmic sneezes – at least when I buy the pills it might!  Tomorrow.

            I also put down to hay fever my forgetfulness at leaving my watch at home as I set out on my epic bike ride to my equally impressive swim.  This was particularly ironic, as I had made a Herculean effort and remembered to consult the web site of my smart watch app to find out which of the four buttons I should press and in what order to get the most out of my swim!

            In theory, each of my swims should be beamed to the web site where it will be ranked and various statistics (which of course I will ignore, but it’s nice to have them to ignore) will be automatically produced for my delectation.

            All of this is rather like another app I have called, oddly, ‘misfit’, which tells me how many steps I have taken and how much sleep I have had.  Also, disturbingly, it tells me how much ‘deep’ sleep I had.  How the hell does my watch know that?  And why, over the last two days has it only told me of the sleep that I had, completely ignoring its depth?  I truly am not in control of my apps.  But I live to learn, so it is only a matter of time before I finally crack them.

Credit and gain

I know that I should be considering the culture that I saw on Saturday when, with Suzanne I went to the Museu del Disseny de Barcelona in Pl de les Glóries Catalanes in Barcelona to see Design for life: 99 Projects for the real world and to find out what was going on at the Open Day for the Poblenou Urban District.  But I’m not.  I’m thinking instead of the rather wonderful glass that Kate and Steve gave me when I left after an evening of talk and drink!

            My mother’s training runs deep in me.  Her fascination with glass, crockery and cutlery means that now I find it difficult to pass by a well-designed piece of any of these when I see them.  It is this ingrained attitude which explains my delight when my wine was served in a very stylish glass and my enthusiasm must have been very (indeed embarrassingly) obvious.  Again, going back to my mother, I shudder to think of her opinion of my behaviour!

            However, it is a fine glass: a cup-like bowl on a chunky long stem with a circular foot.  The glass bowl has a lop sided, bubble filled slew of glass which gives it a slightly retro Swedish ‘80s look.  I do hope that Steve remembers where he bought the others (he originally had eight) because I would be interested in buying others to make up a set. 

My mother is always round about!

Eventually

After a wearingly long period of failure, I have finally managed to make some sort of poetic sense of some of my past notes in the notebook.  I am depressingly aware of how much material is waiting for me to make something out of it, but I fear that the OU is taking precedence at the moment.  And rightly so!

            The last poem, the draft of which is available for view and comment at http://smrnewpoems.blogspot.com.es/ the title of the poem is Lessons? And it uses some of the ideas which have informed a few of my other recent poems.  I wonder if I have given enough information in the poem as it is written.  Something to think about.

Defining purchases!

One of my more inspired purchases was of an illuminated toilet seat.  It was bought from Lidls and had a seaside theme with real shells and one starfish set in the clear plastic lid.  When the lid was raised light appeared in the seat!  It didn’t cost that much and it was a thing of wonder.

            That ‘it didn’t cost that much’ should have alerted me to the fleeting life of the thing.  First the light failed to work and then it broke.  I repaired it and it broke again.

            My latest purchase replacement is more expensive and is plain white and somewhat sturdier.  But boring.  But wait – what happens if you go into the bathroom in the dark?  A sensor immediately illuminates two small blue lights on each side of the seat!  And it works because I have tested it, stumbling into the bathroom to be greeted by an oddly azure glow!  Never a dull moment.

Swim, work and eat

Success by stealth

My watch told me that I had swum 1,625 m, a suspiciously round figure given that when I left the pool with my watch still going I did a partial diagonal which was less than a length.  Still, I did check the accuracy of the thing for the first few lengths and it did seem to be counting properly.

            How I got the watch to do my bidding I do not know.  I do know that it notched up a few ‘rest periods’ as I pressed each of the four buttons available to me with increasing desperation.  However, it worked.  I suppose and that is a Good Thing and it shows that I swam more than the metric mile, which is also a Good Thing.

            If I am truthful (and it never hurts once in a while) I did not feel demonstrably better after my efforts and my achievements did not make me any less grumpy after having to swim next to a bloke who was clearly stronger, younger and quicker than I.  God rot him.  And no, the idea of swimming faster myself to match his speed was rejected at the unconscious level in my brain!

            Still, I will write now that I fully intend (somehow) to find out (definitively) how to use this app – and isn’t it a sign of the times in which we live that the word app does not merit an underlining or a full stop automatically inserted nowadays when you type.  App is a fully recognized word.  And in such a short time.  Anyway, I am promising myself that I will make the effort and find out how to use the thing before my next swim.  Which is tomorrow morning.  That was written so that the character doing this typing and the human being doing the swimming tomorrow get together and their combined consciousness does something about it!

Spring is sprung

I have written the first of what I hope will be a small series of poems on Spring Trees.  Not the best title and I trust in my imagination to change it to something altogether more impressive before it finds its way into a book.

            I was caught out by the Spring as I was still well into my Winter Trees cycle, and so the tell-tale tufts of green were both a shock and somewhat irritating – after all I haven’t really finished that cycle yet!  I shall look on my Encounters with Trees as a lifelong effort and therefore I can wait years, adding bits as the seasons change to the four piles of manuscripts waiting for publication!

            The latest effort can be read at http://smrnewpoems.blogspot.com.es together with all my other recent poems.  If you are interested do click on the ‘follower’ button and you will be informed of all new posts.  Some day or other, somebody is going to have the courage to leave a comment, to which I promise to respond!  Good or bad!

            I am sure that I should be able to create a link between this blog and the one with my poems, but that is beyond me at the moment.

            Indeed the only reason that there is now a ‘search this blog’ feature (top right) is because Toni responded to my suggestion that he incorporate one in his blog http://catalunyaplacetoeat.blogspot.com.es and therefore has prompted me to do the same!

            I think I should suggest to him all the things I want to do and then copy slavishly.  Though I would point out that the ‘search’ feature was put in with no help from himself.  All my own work.  Though I only did it when I knew it could be done.  If you see what I mean.

Selfless research

Yet another piece of fieldwork to provide material for Toni’s blog (see above) this time in a restaurant that we always forget about.  It is called La finca (I think.  You will have to check Toni’s blog to see if I am right) and we usually find ourselves driving around in every decreasing spirals trying to find it.  In the area in which we live there are two types of road: the first is like the one on which we live which stretches virtually the whole length of Castelldefels parallel to the beach. The other type is a road which is one way or a dead end.  This means that you can sometimes see where you want to go, but if you are driving a car you have to take a conceptual view of a straight line and try and get to your destination by keeping it in the corner of your eye as you try and approach it through a paradoxical road system.

            We eventually parked and walked.  It was simpler.

            Our positive memories of this place are based on a remarkable tapa that the place did for one of the Ruta de Tapa that is an annual event in Castelldefels.  It was when Andrew and Stewart were visiting and the culinary soul of Castelldefels seemed to embrace their presence and everywhere we went was outstanding, not only in terms of taste but also in terms of value.

            This time round the meal was above average, but nothing startling: it gains a 3 Drac (dragon) score out of five.  Harsh but fair.

            Bring on the next – and the time when Toni will be recognized as the fearsome author of a restaurant blog whose word can make or break reputations!

Pointed research

The pro-forma for the end of module assessment has been returned and my tutor seems generally enthusiastic, while giving me a few clear pointers towards where the majority of the marks lie!  I shall go through what she has said and use my trusty highlighter and tell my wayward pen to watch its step!

            I think that my basic problem is self-made.  I have chosen two artists who interest me rather than two artists whose work is exemplary for the course.  I have to be careful that I remember the title of the course that I am doing and throw in theoretical works like confetti!

            I am not doing any further work on that part of the course yet, until the last essay is out of the way.  I hope to get a few chapters ‘done’ (i.e. read and highlighted and the bits typed out) and get the rest of it ‘done’ as well by the end of next week so that I can on with the essay the week after, and get it sent off before I come to the UK for the Day School.

            There is a lot to do, as well as a lot to prepare if the visit to Britain is to gain the results for which I hope.

Plots

I have hatched yet another plot to try and get exactly what I want for my book, Flesh Can Be Bright, to be published October 2015.  Not everything is working out in the way that I thought it wouldn’t.  And I now think that I am on Plan F (having originally only planned for disasters up to and including Plan D) but I am still smiling and, in spite of all evidence to the contrary, I am still confident that I will get something along the lines of my original expectations.

            As any cynic will tell you, the best delusion is self-delusion – and, just like Swift’s explanation for the easy acceptance of irony, I can write things like that because, of course, self-delusion is the concern of other foolish people and not, of course, myself.