Wednesday, July 2, 2008


We have seen some very lovely and large butterflies here. The Inspectors bought us a beautiful Bougainvillea when they were last time. As I was going about my early morning chores, which usually comprise yawning a lot, just looking at things and scratching various unmentionable parts of my body whilst slurping a large mug of tea, I saw this fantastic Swallowtail butterfly sucking up the Bougainvillea nectar. The picture really does not do it justice. The markings were exquisite. We are hoping to see more.

Bloodied but not bowed – Tony Hancock, Italian style

Because of my desperate chronic medical condition, which I won’t go into too much for fear of putting you off your food for a number of days, I have to go and give some of my bodily fluids to the health service for analysis. Think Tony Hancock - if you don’t know what I am talking about, just ask someone older than you – and you won’t be far off.
My veins are extremely protective of the blood they carry round my body and, unfortunately for me, are also extremely reluctant to let any of it escape unless by accident.
As the poor technician tried to find a vein, any vein, I apologised and said it was never easy for me to give blood. I was actually feeling emotionally uncomfortable about it. Here he was sticking needles into imaginary veins as though I was some kind of pincushion, and I was feeling embarrassed. Work that one out. I could not be anything other than British to feel like that, could I?
Most people who were there to give blood were in and out within about 3 to 4 minutes. Almost 25 minutes after I had entered the “office” I staggered out (allow me a little literary licence here). I had several bits of cotton wool over my arms that I was trying to apply pressure to staunch the flow of my precious lifeblood. Fortunately, I had chosen to go to the hospital on market day so the Duchessa was with me and she insisted on driving when we left the hospital, as she said I needed to concentrate on not letting the car smell of blood. She’s a very caring, sharing sort of a woman is the Duchessa.

On our way to and from the town where the hospital is, we passed this house where a new baby had just taken up residence and demonstrated in the photo below. Brilliant, isn’t it? Beats a personal in the Times any day.

Surf’s Up

As the days are very hot at the moment, we decided last Friday to get everything we needed to do done by mid afternoon and head to the beach for late afternoon and early evening. We thought it would be better to go then rather than the weekend. It was busy, but nothing like what it would be over the next two days.
We could not walk on the sand without going “ouch, ouch” It was too hot. So we threw our towels and things down whilst hopping from one foot to the other trying to get stripped down to swimming things and hot footed it (ha, ha) to the sea where we were expecting a fairly cooling experience. It was like stepping in to a tepid bath. It was ludicrously warm up to our knees and then it got gently cooler a bit further out. Absolutely gorgeous. We could hardly keep out of the sea.
As we were drying ourselves off in the sun, we heard a motor noise that didn’t seem to belong to a motor boat and there was this little Microlight float-plane bouncing across the water near the marina. It didn’t take long before it was up and away and buzzing about in the sky. It looked really excellent. It sort of did a big circle and flew past where we were so we could see clearly the “float” bit it had for taking off and landing.
I am very pleased I was not in that contraption. You know those yellow plastic dinghies with plastic oars you can buy from Woollies in the summer for about £9.99? The ones that clearly state that they should not be used in any way as some sort of life-saving aid and should only carry 2 emaciated children under 6 at most? Well, the float on the Microlight that looked as though it was just tied on, could almost have the word Woolworths printed on it.

There were a couple of German families beside us enjoying the sun and the sea. I told the Duchessa to shout out “Viva Espanã” just as we were leaving, but she was having none of it.

Hopefully, if the weather keeps up we will probably try and get down there again this week. I wonder if Biggles will there again, that is if he hasn’t gone to see Davy Jones.

In praise of Spain

Good game to end Euro 2008. I’m glad the Spanish team won. I thought they did play a classy game (one of several) and Torres’ goal was good. The Germans didn’t play badly, just a bit less good than the Spaniards. I must say I have really quite enjoyed watching the footie as I am not particularly a fan of the game. I was wondering if it was because there was not a British or Irish team there and so there was no team I expected myself to feel I had to support. If you have no preference than you can just watch, hopefully, a good game of footie being played.


Great word, isn’t it?


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