Thanks to a dear friend I can now impose music on you too.

At the moment I'm listening a lot to "Curandero", described as " flamenco guitar meets Indian tabla". (Hit the gizmo on the right)

Thank you again Lindy for all your help.

Another radio inspired post:

I was just smiling to myself after hearing somebody on the radio talking about a stretched 2CV. What an amazing mental image! Many years ago I had a 2CV, I bought it because lots of friends had one and they all raved over them…I learned later they were lying. For the uninitiated, =http://www.iespana.es/ventila...;h=268&w=400&sz=1 8&tbnid=aOE6Hj0yMCgJ: &tbnh=80&tbnw=120 &hl=en&start=27&a mp;prev=/images%3Fq%3D2cv %2Bdolly%26start%3D20%26s vnum%3D10%26hl%3Den%26lr% 3D%26sa%3DN"2CV’s look like this.

I think they’ve stopped making them now, but for decades their design hadn’t changed. The initial brief (I believe) was to design a cheap car into which you could put two pigs, place a basket of eggs on the front, and drive over a ploughed field without upsetting the pigs or breaking the eggs.

The seats in mine were like deckchairs, or canvas affairs suspended from a metal frame. This made driving any distance uncomfortable because the metal tubing left red welts on the backs of the knees, and eventually cut off the blood supply to the lower legs.  Worse still, for me at least, was that I had to plan my driving routes with military precision. I often went miles out of my way to avoid going up hills. Apart from the fact that the engine was so weak it made driving up an incline embarrassing, as soon as the car started to climb the suspended seats swung backward and I couldn’t reach the pedals.

The gear stick was on the dashboard, but instead of the usual “H” movements to change gear, you had to push and pull the stick in and out. I don’t think I ever did get the hang of that gear stick, but I’m sure it didn’t matter seeing as the car never went fast enough to get out of third gear anyway.

If anybody tells you their car is “great fun”, beware. What they’re really saying is "why should I be the only one around here to look rediculous?"

We spent today in Cadiz city. Did lots of walking (VG), but ate far too much (VB). For once I remembered to take my camera:

Bragas in the breeze

Just sitting and watching the ocean

More time spent watching

Taken from the car on the way home, the wind farms of Tarifa

Again from the car, Spains best known advert' which needs no words

I love this. Whenever I pass this spot I always stop and spend time thinking. In the foreground is Europe, the background is Africa, to the left is the Mediterranian, to the right the Atlantic. It has to be special.

Again, taken from the car. "Office space to let"

I was listening to the radio this morning and somebody mentioned seeing a bumper sticker on the back of a motorbike which said, “If you can read this my girlfriend has fallen off.” I thought to myself, if that was a Spanish bike it would say “If you can read this my girlfriend, her mother and the dog have fallen off.”

Over the years we’ve had a fascination with Spanish people and mopeds. I used to pass a holiday complex on my way to and from work, and in the mornings I’d see an army of cleaners heading off on mopeds, usually four per bike, complete with mops, buckets etc. However, the best sight yet was in Nerja. We saw four adults, a child, a dog and a dining chair being carried along atop a decrepit, old Vespa. ¡Viva Andalucia!

Almost a year ago I wrote about a friend’s wedding. It was a lovely day, if a bit chaotic. Their house was taken over by friends and family from UK and Germany so the bride got ready at our house. I volunteered to ferry people around so was busy most of the day, that is until the point I said I was going to drive home, leave the car and walk back to the reception. I have a key to their house, so now was the perfect time to go in and leave them a surprise (anonymous) gift…”Bondage For Beginners” which comprised a small whip, a gag and leather restraints, which I left on their bed.

Now what I find really interesting is, a year later they still haven’t mentioned it.

When I heard the other day that a man had been shot by the police in London I waited for some sort of clarification or explanation. As time passed and none came I started to think, “they’ve screwed up.” It seems they did.

A young Brazilian man lost his life, his crime was to be seen leaving a house which was under observation by the police. He was followed by a number of police in plain clothes, and when they saw him heading towards a tube station they took chase. He jumped the barrier and got onto a platform amid chaos. He was brought to the ground onboard a tube train, and shot five times in the back of the head.

The police say he looked suspicious because he was wearing clothes too heavy for the warm weather. If I was to leave the 40º of inland Andalucia and go back to London at 20º I’m sure I too would wear warm clothes. Would that make me look suspicious?

They say he didn’t respond to police commands. It’s possible he didn’t understand.

Eye witnesses say there was total panic, which is understandable during a confused incident in a city on high alert. That said, it isn’t unreasonable for a man to run when being chased by (five?) other men.

Once stopped, face down on the ground, hands above his head, why didn’t the police handcuff him? I’m sure police training does not instruct five shots to the back of the head in a “shoot to stop” incident. I understand the policy is to shoot into the torso, something they wouldn't want to do if they thought he possibly had bombs strapped to himself. Am I being naive wondering why they didn't shoot into the arms or legs if they had to shoot to stop somebody who had stopped.

I for one certainly don’t know the answers to these questions. Maybe we’ll be given more information over the next few days to clarify what happened, and why. I know it can be said that the police had to act fast, make decisions in seconds, but that is what they are trained to do. I also think if they did act within police guidelines on “shoot to stop,” then those guidelines need amending. It’s so very wrong!

    & nbsp;  

I’m not sure if I’m breaking any copyright rules here, hope not.

I recently bought the above postcard. I like black and white photography, especially when it’s high contrast. I loved the composition of this pic, it somehow felt quirky and made me smile. A few days later I was scanning some documents and decided to scan the postcard into the computer. I couldn’t believe what appeared (the above pic). I hadn’t seen the boy in the original photo! I see him there now, just, but he’s nowhere as clear on the original as he is on the scanned image. It’s stopped looking quirky and seems a bit sinister now.

I opened the door to see Hope, an English friend, looking more crazed than usual and whimpering “wine, I need a large glass of wine. If you were a real friend you’d find me a cigarette too”.

Hope hasn’t lived here for long, she wants to work but is (like many of us before her) finding it difficult. As a nurse she’d been told she has to register with the Spanish health authority before she can look for work. Fair enough.

After a couple of gulps of wine and half a cigarette she started to tell me what had happened. Somebody had told her she could register as a qualified nurse in an office here in the land of the smiling mule. She found the office and eventually got to talk to the scary woman behind the desk. It needs to be said that Hope doesn’t speak Spanish, but what she lacks in technical knowledge is compensated by technique and enthusiasm. From what she told me the conversation went some thing like this;

“ Hello, I nurse. I want work here. I have papers…um, list?” The scary woman behind the desk said nothing. Hope mimed injecting herself and smiled at the woman. “Nurse”. She slid her papers across the desk, which the woman looked at and slid them back clearly not understanding English. Hope went on, and on, the mimes getting bigger until somebody in the queue behind her offered (in broken English) to help. “At last! Please tell her that I’m a nurse and want to work here.” The scary woman behind the desk looked puzzled and slowly shook her head. “Tell her” said Hope, “all I want is to register in this country as a qualified nurse and can she please help me”. After a brief exchange between the two women Hope was told “no”. “WHAT! I am a European citizen, and as such…”. The woman broke in and said “she can’t help you because this is the Water Board office”.

I filled her wine glass again while she described the events of the rest of her day. She went to another office, queued for hours and went through the whole process again. She filled out numerous papers, signed the dotted line and left the office in search of a friendly ear. “So, are you now registered?” I asked her. “Well yes, I’m registered unemployed”.