So Wednesday has come and gone.

 

I have a thought for my English speaking (and reading) followers, as this is not really relevant here in Spain, yet.

If you are British, and want to retire, but have not made arrangements for a private fund, be aware that the British government led by billionaire Boris, has changed that important number to 66 summers. Yet for as long as I can remember, if you were breathing on this little country called UK, retirement was 65 it was 65, younger for women, although that age number escapes me. Thus from October of last year, retire at your peril. You will get NOTHING, until you and your zimmer have 66 candles on your collective cake. I understand this number is being discussed, the current proposal is 68...which doubtless will be just in time for me to miss out again.

I think its the first time government greed and folly has affected me directly, and it will affect many, many more, unless like Boris you are a millionaire. Apart from that, everything is just hunkydory..(is that even a word?)

On a positive note, I passed a queue outside the hospital this afternoon, on enquiry was told it was la vacuna contra covid .you get it...so really good news. Healthcare here, public not private, is exceptional, with attentive responsible staff. The vaccine queue another great example.

That, and being called maestro thanks to my soccer fotos, is the bright side of today. For the record, I am no maestro, just great gear and some experience, and no, you dont always need the sun at my back.

Stay safe people, help is on the way, despite Boris.

So that was Tuesday.

 

Getting a wee bit late here in the Spanish countryside, a Tuesday spent mostly my little office trying to escape complaining cats..sorting through archived photographs listening to a world variety of radio stations.

Listening for inspiration.

Thinking about a Glasgow based broadcaster, casting back to the advent of FM and live all night programming, yes with presenters. Made my solitary night shifts in the middle of nowhere junction a wee bit easier. Now, curiously, many use robojuke or some such auto system at any time of day. Removes the humanity.

I often wonder why that is. People want paid I guess, do computers really care?

Now, from my native county in Scotland, there are a host of stations, mostly, but not all, internet only outfits with crystal clear reception, which you can broadcast and recieve from any corner of our twirling orb. DAB radio is in my car, well waiting just around the next corner, although this little island is strugglng to keep up with modern tech. Like anything new you have just purchased, out of date and obsolete, immediately.

Thus FM is on a deathbed of unforgiving technology.

What comes after the internet?

Do you know? Answers in time for my Wednesday rant.

Please. Meantime may I bid you goodnight.

Tormenta cerebral

 

The wind has blown all day, the rain pouring down, we are on the edge of a storm, warning yellow according to the authorities…

Avisa amarilla

For once they are not wrong.

So winter has arrived, in La Palma. Interesting to see what the climate is doing on the west of our rock, a climate invariably kinder.

So tomorrow in El Paso, for a little while at least, colaborating with a local radio station, commenting on local football, the next step up in my language learning process which sometimes I think is a step up to far.

But with more confidence….who knows where it will go. I like to dream, think outside the box. A lot of people arrive here with lack of understanding, planning for some sort of future which is just simply put, out of reach. But they survive, without language nor understanding, whilst I struggle with la señora gramatica to what end?

Perhaps I have got it wrong

a pasear

 

Caminando bajo el sol, en la maravilla de La Palma. Senderismo seco, acompañado por cactus y palmas. ¡Cuidado! Algunas plantas son afiladas, y quiere dejar un rayo en cualquier persona.

Ten cuidado.

El cielo, azul, despegado, solo gaviotas gritando su mensaje, o un lagarto escondido dentro de las hierbas y la césped, tiene también una voz.

Las flores salvajes, bonitas pero indignadas..”¿Por qué nos llaman salvajes? Somos amables, hermosas, y nuestra color esplendida, una reflexión de la vida que tenemos aquí en el campo, una vida sana y completa.”

Asi es, una vida sana y completa.

Casí.

Español con errores con el escocés errrante. 

 

 

Una cuarta ola....

 El director del Centro de Coordinación de Alertas y Emergencias Sanitarias, Fernando Simón, ha reconocido la posibilidad de que se produzca una cuarta ola de la pandemia que coicida con la Semana Santa, pero su impacto dependerá de varios factores, entre ellos, la campaña de vacunación.

 acabo de ser consciente que casi todos los videos que he subido tiene el mismo tema, la politica.Tengo que cambiar esto..oh a proposito voy a abandonar FACEBOOK...y vamos a ver lo que pasará. 

 

 

Dream on.

 

Sitting on a hard bench in Calle Real, La Palma, people watching, hidden behind my obligatory mask, hidden from the cast of my unsuspecting passing street theatre.

Friends and enemies greeting each other, customary, agreeable. A woman with blue hair swished past, another clumping on fashionable heels, bearing discomfort in the name of moda ...moda indeed.

I came to wondering how I got here, not my uncomfy street furniture, but Spain, for over fourteen years now. I recalled one night driving from the south of Fuerteventura to my then home near the airport and thinking the same thing, windows down, radio on...fireflies caught in the headlights, enjoying my semi tropical dream...wondering when I will wake.

I´m still dreaming.

Dream on.

Busco…

 

Busco algo, pero ¿qué?

¿Algo fuera de mi rango, fuera de alcance?

Supongo que sí.

Como la canción de los rockeros irlandeses

Todavía no he encontrado lo que busco.

Buenas noches.

Detritus of Frivolity.

 

The jerky rythm of reggaeton played too loud, leaked from the battered transport, full of testosteron, alcohol and dreams. Smelly youth, the future prospects of power, our future.

Doors closed to foreigners, depending what or who that foreigner may be, or wants.

If the foreigner wants anything.

A morning walk, after the night before, detritus of frivolity trapped by the gutter of those same smelly youths.

We are all waiting for the same sunrise. Its just tha some have been waiting longer than others.

Goodnight.