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Friday, 21 August 2009

I've come for the beans.

These two fellows asked if they could collect the beans off the carob tree so of course I said yes because it drops thousands of heavy, black, runner bean-shaped things every year. I thought they would bring a ladder or something but it's just like picking olives. They spread out green netting on the ground, then the younger one climbs up the tree with a curtain rod "Changing Rooms" would be proud of and thwacks the tree until the beans fall out. The older guy sat on the porch and supervised. Three hours later, they pile the bins of beans into their white van, ten minutes later they ring the doorbell and announce that somewhere amongst the aforementioned thousands of bean they have lost the keys to the van...finally found in the dying Papyrus grass.

Having a meal at Alice who used to be Frank this evening. Her friend from England is over for a week. They went shoe shopping this morning. How? It's forty degrees outside....? I know it's going to be paella, I know it.

Hey, any of you out there with a persistent, nagging cough and on blood pressure pills? You're on the wrong kind.

And here's something to think about.

Tuesday, 18 August 2009

You can never be too thin or too rich.

And here's a link to an old song I like...but the video...erk. Oh look, I almost fell off a roof, oh ha, ha, but don't I have great legs?

Monday, 17 August 2009

Cloud Nine

The fellow next door who fell on a knife is in a state. So is half the street actually. The Kingpin Mafia Builder of the pueblo has bought the land on the corner. He has bulldozed down the protected pine trees, torn down the sides of two people's garages. Pulled down a garden wall of the knifeman next door who is very upset that his temple will be disturbed (don't ask, I don't know). His two massive Pyraneean mountain dogs are now shut into his front garden which means that Arthur is ballistic (even more so because he has a torn back muscle and not allowed to move much). Today the pneumatic drills and bulldozer are out in full force and the noise level suicidal. Half the street has gone to the local lawyer this morning fully armed with the knowledge that Franco tactics don't work in Spain much anymore. These builders are monsters...and desperate.
The renters next door sitting in clouds of dust. Everybody is a mad as hell.
Oh, and I can't get the old sofa bed out of the door. Patrick and Paco have left piles of cushions and wadding and metal bits in the sitting room. Excuse me while I go and weep.

Sunday, 16 August 2009

Four Eyes

Imagine if you really did have four eyes? The most inane things go through my head quite out of the blue. While I am sitting peacefully trying not to cough my insides out this tongue twister arrived in my thoughts.
"Do you have an Ikea
Idea, Dear?"
I could understand if I had, had some sort of organ transplant with a donor in advertising or something but that's not the case. But I bet you can't say it very fast over and over for more than eight seconds....

Time for a cup of tea. What is white tea anyway?