Holiday?

No Group Meal can ever really be called a success if there has been no major argument over the bill.  Usually, it has to be said this usually takes the form of I-didn’t-have-any-wine-so-I-am-not-paying-an-equal-share sort of thing.  On Saturday there was certainly an element of that but the major upset was the presentation of a bill for over eight hundred quid for a very ordinary meal, lubricated by extraordinarily expensive bottles of booze.

We will not be returning to The Meating Place (sic) at the bottom end of St Marys Street.  To make the evening complete even after Angela had, as usual taken financial control of a situation that was spiralling out of control, one foolish member of the grasping staff came out on to the street demanding more money!  Our response was not one of outraged indignation, merely that of tired drunken boredom and total ignoring.  A most satisfying end to a Grand Meeting of Friends.

The week was one of almost continuous Doing Something.  We visited Maesteg, Port Talbot, Llandaff, The Millennium Centre, Le Monde, Boots, Matalan, The Rumney Pottery, Tesco in all its variations, Ceri and Dianne’s, M&S, every shoe shop in Cardiff, Hadyn’s, my Uncle Eric, my Aunt Micky, the National Museum of Wales, Professor Wynn Thomas, MacArthur Glen, Boots, and – you get the idea.  Not exactly relaxing, but definitely enjoyable.

We seemed to eat fairly continuously with some excellent meals.  Didn’t do much of the work that I had set myself, but I did manage to read Wynn’s book (R.S. Thomas – Serial Obsessive) before I met him.  Which I told him gesturing for him to take in the fact that I had the book with me for our meeting.  ‘Have you read it?’ he asked.  And when I replied in the affirmative, he responded by asking, ‘Twice?’  The next time I get the better of that gentleman will be the first time as well.

My chapbook is now well and truly distributed and I am awaiting comments.  Comments about this one ensure the delivery of the next – though, thinking about it I am not sure if that is incentive or warning!

A most stimulating time was had by all and now we have time to relax!

The MOOC Creative Writing course has started and I have been deep into the forums reading a frankly bewilderingly various collection of poetry.  I have written one myself and look forward to the production of many more during the six-week (I think) course.

One member of the last course is also on this one and I have yet to make contact with her.  The Closed Forum from the last course seems to be a little dead at the moment, but I have every confidence that things will spring back into life when our results have finally been given to us.  Another twelve days and then we can truly start concentrating on the next academic year starting in October.

The next week seems rather dismal as far as the weather is concerned so at least I will be able to get back up to date with my various courses.

Day of Shame!

Our anti-monarchical flag has been flying defiantly throughout the day and I have refused to look at any scenes of the lanky Bourbon pretending that his new ‘position’ is anything other than a crushing denial of the democratic pretentions of a politically bankrupt nation.  To say nothing of the obscene amount of money spent on this ridiculous sham at a time of national crisis.

            Of course the expulsion of Spain from the World Cup has been (and indeed, is) of more significance than a member of the moneyed classes dressing up in strange clothes and laughing at the peasants in the ruling party of PP fawning on his accession.

            I do recognize that the status of the Germanic dwarf in the UK would probably be confirmed if her position was ever opened to real public discussion, and I have to admit that (little thanks to her) there is much more transparency about the ludicrous costs of the so-called royal family than there is in Spain, where the information made available to the public is laughable.  Still, Spain did have an opportunity to take the discussion to another level and they bottled out. 

Perhaps when the GD finally has the good grace to shuffle of this moral coil and the public are faced with the awful reality of her appalling son ascending the throne they might actually think about the way in which they are governed for once, and finally decide that the Royal House of Wettin (which is what the laughable House of Windsor should truly be known as) is finally consigned to history where it so richly deserves to languish.

            It is true that the governing (sic!) PP party are the ultimate practitioners of the bread-and-circuses approach to deflecting serious discussion about anything of importance.  What is the world cup but the ultimate mask for the rich, powerful and unscrupulous to do what they do best and screw the rest of us!

            This bile could go on spilling for pages, but I should try and regulate my rants.  If only for the benefit of my health!

            I am much looking forward to our visit to the UK and especially to the meal on the Saturday night that looks as though it is going to be attended by a goodly group of friends.

            My revised chapbook of poems from the OU course that I have just taken has taken a step nearer to reality as, after extensive excavations in the storage area under the eves, I have rediscovered the long-armed stapler - without which the production of semi-professional booklets is impossible.  Indeed the number of pages in the booklet means that its realization is at the outer limits of the technology that I have at my disposal.  However publication of some sort is immanent.

            I have now brought the flag inside, it is after sunset after all, and the point has been made – and I am not at all convinced by the case for Catalan independence  - and anyway, I would have been much happier with a Spanish Republican flag.  Which I am determined to buy and use at a later date.

            Tomorrow the viewing of a flat.  There is no way that I can afford to buy one, but it is interesting to see what is on offer.  And I can’t wait for the laughable offers of finance that they might offer to a person of my age!

            Another experience to look forward to.  And something to write about of course.

           

           

            

A missed opportunity!

Try as I might (and I did) I cannot get hold of a Spanish republican flag.  Castelldefels is not a hotbed of radical political activity and the best I could come up with was a Catalan independence flag.  Bought from a Chinese shop.  The irony is too cruel to be articulated!

            The reason I need a flag of some sort is because tonight at midnight the discredited Bourbon who has flounced about fornicating and killing elephants will be officially not-king-but-king.  This idiotic situation was obviously fabricated by the supinely Papist government (remember the police medal was awarded to The Virgin Mary by a minister) to reflect the situation of the double popes we (they) now have.  But at least Pope Francis was elected.  Which is more than can be said for Philip VI who will be acclaimed king in some ornate ceremony in parliament, at an expense which mocks The Crisis; the unemployment figures; the risible minimum wage, and the feeling in the country, in which a majority wants a referendum about the monarchy.

            So when the pomp and circumstance of this piece of anti-democratic window dressing for the corrupt regime using our money to pay for it all it going on, I intend to show my displeasure by having the Catalan independence flag flying, which by implication is against the monarchy.  I will check with my friends and find a republican flag which I will fly at every occasion when this new parasite does anything of national irrelevance – which after all is his ‘job’.

            And to top all of this, Spain has just been knocked out of the World Cup.  I would like to think that this is a fully justified response to the almost terminal corruption of FIFA – but the truth is that in the two games that I have seen they have played as if their bodies were drones being controlled by neophyte American pizza delivery boys who only had a sketchy idea of what was going on and were drunk.  Toni has just informed me that Spain now has the more than dubious honour of being the first team out of the World Cup.  After winning the bloody thing the last time.  This will be seen as a national disgrace.  A fitting accompaniment to the country’s acceptance of an unelected hereditary monarch as their head of state.

            In the last world cup, after the disgraceful behaviour of the French team, when they were kicked out they were flown home steerage to emphasise the anger that people felt about their petulance.  Toni’s suggestion is that the Spanish team be sent home by bus.  A good suggestion I think, especially if the link between Alaska and Russia is not iced over.  After all global warming has not been helped by the ostentatious cars that the overpaid footballers parade themselves in; it is only fair that they should suffer from the global warming that they, with their careless lifestyle have helped exacerbate.

            I, by the way, am perfect and without spot.  And I drive a hybrid car.  So there.

            

It's only money!

A few years ago I had occasion to visit my local tax office in Llanishen in Cardiff.  Not by choice I might add.  This office was not some small, Heath-Robinson, out of the way, darkened room – rather it was a gigantic multi-storey in-your-face building whose intimidating outside said quite clearly that mere humans were not wanted.  Imagine my surprise therefore when speaking to the denizens of this anti-Utopia to find that they were approachable, helpful and polite.  They cut through my paperwork with exemplary consideration and sent me on my way with a happy smile!  And yes, I did write my appreciation in the visitors’ book.  It seemed the least that I could do.

            Now jump forward a few years and my tax affairs are now in the hands of Spain.  At which point, my mind drifts back a lot of years and to a fond memory of ‘The Revenge – A Ballad of the Fleet” by Tennyson in which the immortal line, “Fall into the hands of God, not into the hands of Spain” comes back to sum up the situation of having anything to do with the bureaucracy of the latter mentioned country.

            You can download your tax information from the Internet and the printout thus produced should give you a complete overview of you tax affairs and tell you how much you are going to get back from the tax people.  Everyone I know has a rebate at the end of the tax year.  Not me.  This time the tax authorities wanted over twelve hundred euros from me.  And I am not working!

            After a few jocular observations about tax, Spain, Satan and the power of Evil, during which the glass in the windows started to melt, I calmed down sufficiently to hear Toni say, “They do this to everyone!”  It turns out that the tax offices in Spain are in direct opposition to what the American Constitution describes as the right to ‘the pursuit of happiness’.  The tax office of Spain is, and always will be agin’ us.  It hates the people whose blood it sucks and, while the tax people themselves can claim tax back to the time of The Revenge, if you as a citizen do not claim what you think you might be owed immediately – tough!  Even if the tax office makes a mistake you will find out that it is still your fault.  You should have checked, all the responsibility is yours and none theirs.

            Therefore there are offices everywhere which offer an essential service of checking through your papers and giving advice.  When I was able to listen without the words vaporizing when they touched any part of my hearing apparatus, it seemed sensible to go to one of these people and hope.

            These people do not work for nothing, but in a few minutes the guy tapping away at a computer program with my details on it was able to halve my debt and to cut the payments into two interest free dollops of my cash.  So, although still paying out, I was paying out just under half as much as I feared.  Result.  And money to spend.  I know that is an illogical statement, but it has been one of my major lifelines in the way that I approach finance!

            Our trip to a nearby small, cheap restaurant suddenly transmogrified into a short car trip to a much higher class establishment where we were able to have a ‘gourmet’ meal on the Castelldefels passport.  This essentially means that a certain number of restaurants in the town offer a good three course meal with drink, bread and coffee for €25 per person.

            So sitting on the terrace of a restaurant perched on the hill above Castelldefels and with a panoramic view of the sea we had a starter of pica-pica which was a selection of tapas ranging from prawn in romescu sauce through a cheese, fruit and nut salad to Spanish ham and Catalan bread.  This was followed by a lobster and sea food rice stew, and completed with ice cream on apple jelly with lime soaked Granny Smith – all washed down with a more than drinkable Torres red and ending with iced coffee.  Delightful.  And I suppose I should give a twisted sort of thank-you to the tax people, because they sort-of made it possible.  At least to my way of thinking.

            I felt like a siesta after lunch and decided to take it on the beach.  And for the first time this year, I went into the sea.  The water was cold, but bearable and it was sort of refreshing.  I even managed to get through some of my latest Thomson film book, ‘The Big Screen: The story of the Movies and what they did to us.’  If you know the writing of David Thomson then I won’t have to do more; if you don’t know his writing then I urge you to try it out.  He has an effortless encyclopaedic knowledge of film and the ability to write about it in a way that gets your hooked at once.  His most famous book is The [New] Biographical Dictionary of Film, now in its sixth edition.  This is a must.  He is opinionated and refreshing and, like the Guinness Book of Records it is very, very difficult to look up what you started to look for without being beguiled along the way!  I would also recommend his ‘Have you seen . . . ?’  Even if you haven’t actually seen the films that he is talking about you will want to by the time you have read the page devoted to each and anyway the writing is of a quality to give pleasure even if you never actually get round to looking at them.  Thus ends this Public Service Announcement.

            Tomorrow, Terrassa for another birthday.  And we haven’t bought the present yet.  Sigh.