Boris and friends celebrate the anniversary of a virus.

Promised myself and you guys that I would desist the political commentary, and that I will attempt to adhere to. But not yet.

However Boris and friends are peddling their rhetoric with a daily news / press conference for the ears of their adoring suplicants.

Yet Germany is worried about a third wave, blaming a British variant.  

From this disaster to another in India, a raging fire in a refugee camp. God bless them, too late really even for even him (or her), 45,000 people displaced, many not for the first time.  

Then a shooting in America, an armed lunatic in a shopping mall in Colorado. Ten people dead? Can you imagine, going to your local shopping centre and never coming home? Who do we thank for the lack of  gun laws...a total of 18 innocent by-standers dead. Mr Trump maybe?

Apart from floods in New South Wales, Australia, 18,000 people had to leave their homes, everything is just great.

 

A Place For Innes?

 Well I appear to have survived day one without FACEBOOK. And someone even noticed, thankyou nursie. Also a remarkable find, well remarkable for me, I wrote a post for my Facebook page yesterday in my adopted language of Spanish, and people in England can read it in their native lingo, without using any type of machine translator, quite something.

So I will continue for now, some in this tongue, and also my stumbling castellano....hope you enjoy. And remember to get in touch as you wish, If you wish ...I hope you wish.  

                                             mantener la distancia por favor

no more facebook?

Thats the plan, for them moment at least. Waste too much time surfing the net, go somewhere and it simply takes you somewhere yo may not want to go, and before you know it, an hour has passed, then another with nothing achieved.

Like now!

I have some content to be added later, concerns social distancing and the almost impossible to implement, at least without the co-operation of the people in the street, your street.

Talk later, but only if you want. whatsapp 0034 608 362 376

  

Sintomas de la cultura.

 

Entro el estadio, con objetivo telefoto, listo como un escopeto , conectado con mi móvil, la radio esta esperando.

Esto el derbi palmero, Tenisca contra Mensajero.

Como cualquier derbi, no importa que equipo esta en forma, es un partido donde cualquier error o lapsus de concentración, puede significar desastre.

La hinchada con sus petardos y banderas, gritan palabrotas, pusieron el arbi y los asitentes bajo mas presión, y por supuesto los jugadores..

Pero espera, más presión, no lo creo.

Cuando entrar a la cancha, los equipos estan sordas a las gradas. Solo pueden oir sus compañeros, o el trio arbitraje, pita ¡falta fuera de fuego, saca de esquina…!

El ambiente volando como los gaviotas, saliendo en el aire..

eso es el derbi palmero.

Lockdown Days.

 

And so another day welds itself to the next, Monday, Tuesday, whatever.

Lock down has passed the level of tolerance, but seems to be the only thing that functions, as we cease to function.

To mask or not to mask, is that the question? Keep your distance, dont stand so close. Tell that to the hordes crushed onto city centre metro, in almost any city centre.

Meanwhile a grim reaper on overtime awaits, as our leaders ignore questions on economy versus health.

Whats the answer Prime Minister? Do you understand the question?

Boris can only wave, offering the waiting cameras that bashfull school boy smile, a moment when he indulges we mere mortals.

But not with answers.

He has no answers.

the wind blew

 

A chill wind of discontent.

Looking over a widening girth, is not my preferred horizon, but after 65 new years, if that's my only concern?

I have few concerns, but, maybe I should have.

It was only months, no weeks, into the virus when one marvellous government suggestion was to stop watching the news., it may be a cause of anxiety.

More Boris buffoonery. Sadly my dictionary suggests there is some humour hidden away in a dark corner, or more concisely, behavior that is ridiculous but amusing. Which would be just dandy if he was not our leader.

His stage is not the comedy channel, quite the opposite.

Perhaps Mr Johnson would fit mmm, let me see, Who wants to be a millionaire?, that jaw dropping 60 minutes of excess which ensured our mis-understanding of the equation, wealth = happiness.

But wait, Boris, you already are.

A buffoon, or a millionaire? I hear you ask.

Both could well be the answer.

Goodnight.