I blame the stars, or perhaps the people who write horoscopes. Don’t they realise the damage they cause? More than parents even, but it’s so much harder to bring that one up in shrinking sessions.
I have grown up believing that, as a Gemini, I was easily sidetracked, unable to concentrate on one thing for too long, starting new things and dropping them in less time it’d take to say ‘pea brain’. And now look at me! I’m obsessed. I won’t read, watch, write anything if not in Spanish. My single-mindedness is taking me by surprise.
Of course the down side is that now I’m having trouble with English. Lo siento.

Last week passed in a blur of work. Mostly. Have you noticed how I’m not blogging, bloggers? That’s because I’m too busy working and going to bed early in order to be up at stupid o’clock the next morning.

On Sunday night, while I was making crêpes, J was standing in the kitchen playing sad tunes on his accordion to try and make me cry. It worked. It always works. I’m easy.

That’s it really.

Don Limpio

And.. into the tunnel again! Work has started again, nights are shorter and in the morning I can’t just sip my tea reading my book with the cat curled up inside my pyjamas. It’s up at stupid o’clock again, and wearing clothes that match, and why do I seem to sweat only when working?
When last week ended, everything was noisy; all I wanted was to sleep, alone, and be quiet. Since so much of my job involves talking with, to and at people, there are times – at the end of every day for at least half an hour, in fact- when just saying one sentence becomes physically painful. It’s the Daily Grump. I come home, slump, and to disconnect a little, I read whatever light reading there is in the bathroom: the august issue of PSN (the magazine of HM Prison service), comics, the Little Book of Complete Bollocks. Or I listen to history radio programs.
When last week ended, everything was all over the place, grimy, unbearable; I hurt my girlfriend’s feelings when I chose housework over seeing her.
As soon as the Daily Grump is over, I should call her, since the house is clean now.

They say it’s September already

1. Blogfolks, I haven’t felt like blogging recently, have you noticed? I flew back from Greece, recovered from the bumpy landing, and threw myself into the Sunflower Project (painting the kitchen yellow, in order to not think about going back to work.) My Special Lady Friend came to help with the second coat.
I like it that she’s better at it than I am.

2. The day of the second coat, she was wearing a ring, a thick silver one. I’d never seen her wear a ring before. She has nice hands. I stared and stared and when she realised I’d gone quiet, I was blushing.

3. Now the paint’s dry; I slept for three hours the night before going back to work. Tonight all I’ll manage to do will be sit in my sunflower of a kitchen for a while, perhaps eat a slice of J’s carrot cake, listen to Joaquin Sabina, find out if my SLF would let me take her out on a date tomorrow to see Volver again, and go to bed early.

Buenas noches.

The sea, the sea

Kalimera !

1.I know and mispronounce six and a half words of Greek, but it seems that the Greeks are used to it. I feel useless and cheap, a member of the colonialist Easyryan brigade. Which I am, I suppose. But it’s that or not buying any fruit.

2.We thought we were going on a retreat, desert island style, but as it happens we have neighbours. Our favourite is about 12 years old, an overgrown cub, chubby, already double-chinned, equalled in loudness by the friend who calls him out from the street:
-Adonis!
….
-Adonis!
…
-Adoniiiiiis!
The poor boy has a lot to live up to with a name like that.

3.We almost didn’t leave London. The day of our departure coincided with what will certainly go down in airport history as The Big Mess. After being searched, we had to abandon all hand luggage. My SLF had to leave her cigarettes behind; I was quietly rejoicing until they also tried to take my food away from me. (Never were 2 Berliners eaten in such haste.)

4.Our flat has a sea view, and was described by the letting agent as ‘romantic’. We can see many reasons for that epithet:

- there is no television (we have to talk to each other)
- the curtains have lacy bits on them (how they float in the sea breeze!)
- there is nowhere to sit apart from the bed. (it’s very cosy)
- the toilet door doesn’t close (we have bonded)

all factors which, without any doubt, will do wonders for bringing a couple closer together.

5.Time to go and swim a little, perhaps float on the Inflatable Madness; then smile a lot and point in the fruit shop.


Ah, the sea. I watch it, sleep by it, swim in it, breathe it in, drink it (but mostly that's when I'm not paying attention).
I do hope that the guy who walks along the nudist beach casually holding a camcorder with the red light on and pointing at the naked lesbians doesn't drop it in the water by accident.


Back on Thursday. Be well!

Looks like I’m back

1. I miss..

Trying out all the bars in Granada, and dining on the tapas they bring you with every round.

The breathtaking black fake marble grandiosity of my flat’s bathroom, complete with gold fixtures and, right above the bog, a scene out of the Greek mythology, exquisitely rendered in (more) gold, red and blue.

The hours spent sprawled on the velvet sofa, late at night with my Italian flatmate, drinking beer and watching Spanish TV. It was just too hot to go to bed before 2 or 3 am.

Bitching about said velvet sofa that you end up sticking to in that hellish temperature– que putada es este terciopelo que te pega al culo.

Having an excuse to have ice-cream instead a proper dinner.

Getting hopelessly hooked on chat shows and ‘Cita rapida’ (blind date).

Starting to do our ‘homework’ after 1am and a few beers. How inspiration flew! I have rude poems to prove it.

The neighbour’s Sunday morning mix of flamenco and heavy metal. It does exist.

2. I don’t miss…

Waking up drenched in sweat at 3am every night and having to take another cold shower just to bring my temperature back down – to make sure that I’d live to see another day. Exaggerating, me? Never.

Daring myself to sit out on the balcony and trying to forget I’m terrified of heights. Then running back in.


3. London is boring, polluted and cold, therefore my SLF and I are off tomorrow for two weeks. There will be lots of swimming involved. Be well!

1. Bloggente, I'm coming back to England on Saturday. Not that it makes any difference to you, but to me yes, since it'll allow me to stop sweating to profusely for at least a couple of days.

2. I'm having trouble with English at the moment, so only popping in to say hello. Hello!

3. Now for homework I have to write a story de que te cagas for tomorrow, so I better go find something to drink, just to make sure that the muse doesn't fail me. It's worked wth every single piece of homework so far. The poem I wrote for today was de puta madre. Really. Want to read it?

Hasta luego, chios y chicas.

Blogfolks, hello.

1. Did you know that quite a few places around here were named by English people? Thought so.
Well, In Seville, there is a square called Plaza Foconeh.

Foconeh, I frowned.
That doesn´t sound very Spanish.
Or English.
Or Arabic.
Or anything.

And then I saw the light.
Four corners !

¡Por supuesto!

Well, it made me laugh.

2. Apart fom that, just the same. Drinking, sweating, not sleeping because of the heat. Not shopping. I promised my SLF a cowboy hat before I left, but there aren´t any. I thought I´d buy some shoes, but there is no way I could take more than one step in anything that passes for shoes around here. I feel so... sensible! so.. German!

3. I´m being kicked out of the building, so farewell. It´s 6 pm, and 38 degrees out there. Wish me luck.

Gente del Pueblo de Bloglandia, parte II

Still not dead. In fact, I have been :

1.wondering. How are the pavements in Granada compatible with the shoes that the women wear? Marble pavements. Shiney. Slippery. Deadly. Shoes: high heeled, hoochie mama shoes with heels like this. Do they have a special section in the ER for heels/versus pavements conflicts?

2. eating melon, watching Mujeres Desperadas, drinking beer at night on my lonesome, reading books about corruption and drug trafficking in Málaga. All at the same time.

3. Waking up at 2 am with what can only be described as a Glorious Nosebleed. After two hours of sticking my head under the cold tap/in the freezer it finally subsided - just when I was starting to wonder what the emergency number was and if the ambulance people would hit me across the face for calling them for a nose bleed, however deadly it was. That made me laugh, and then the bleeding started again. Since then I am keeping exta ice in the freezer for when the next one strikes.

4. contemplating flamenco lessons. Then deciding not too. No deodorant can withstand that kind of heat. None.

5. Contemplating going to mass on Sunday morning. To alleviate boredom. Nothing else is open, you see. I supect my SLF will try to talk me out of it. It´s so good to know I have support at home!

6. walking around, but only after 7pm. Went up and down the old Arabic quarter of the Albayzin, and only met one cat, lazily stretched across a forged iron balcony. We chatted a little; his Spanish was better than mine so I said my goodbyes and went on for more adventures. Mostly, I bought a melon.

Este verano, el calor me la suda.

1.When the temperature reaches 42 degrees, being hot becomes an occupation in itself.

2.Everything you do revolves around drinking water, buying more water to drink, eliminating water by every single pore in your body, buying more water.

3.The only way I get some sleep in my non aircon flat is by having a cold shower right before bed, then getting up half an hour later, putting on a tshirt and going back under the cold shower. Between that moment and the time my tshirt has dried up, I can easily get an hour's sleep.

4. I am slightly worried about fungus, but probably unduly. I'll let you know. Now I really need to go get some water.