Fractalactalactal.......

I am not even going to begin about credit card calling centres or hole in the wall machines or the fact that a bank can make your account dormant if you have not used it for a year, without writing a letter first, and you have to re-apply to open your own bank account. Nor am I going to complain about ringing my bank in Scotland to ask why they have not made a transfer here from a letter dated April 18th to which they reply they never got the letter in the first place which means printing out the original with a strong line through the original date (black pen) and resending that "urgent". I will not complain about the operator at the credit card center called Alila who asked me to phone her back on the same number once the Spanish bank confirmed the transaction was not accepted by their hole in the wall machine. So, I call back the number and ask to speak to Alila where a puzzled voice says, "But Mrs Choosh (nobody can pronounce my name here which makes any kind of waiting room an exercise in precise lateral thinkng) Mrs Choosh, there are two thousand people in this call centre. I don't know Alila."
Well, I ask..."I have no problem with my credit, right"
"Correct."
"Why is the machine here in Spain not accepting it."
"I don't know, Mrs Choosh. Thank you for choosing our service. Goodbye"

The trio was fun yesterday. Now we are a cinco and they call me violin primero which makes me laugh. It will also give you an idea of what we sound like. Think Women's Institute and a collection of long forgetten hormones.

Henry and his Invisible Wife

These are my neighbours on the right side of the house. They have disappeared again, sort of like Timbobig's bike that lives across the road from him.
My new passport arrived this morning, delivered by a very cheery man driving a van the same size as a moving van. I cannot see why Britain chooses to charge one hundred and fifty eight pounds for such a document. The very least they could have done would be to photoshop ten years off my photo. Filling in the back page I realise with horror that I have no family in Britain anymore.
And Ryan air just bit themselves in the face. They are turning the adventure of travel into an administrative horror. They probably will start charging you for actually having the cheek to get on a plane at all...which I won't be doing from now on. Goodbye Ryanair/Unfayreair, I will not miss you.

Digital pencils

Ah, I see this is Manga Studio Ex which is the professional version...I thought I was buying this version but it seems I have ordered the wrong one. Honestly, why are graphics software so expensive?
Raining but it smells great outside.
Got halfway around the mountain. It looked beautiful and moody, with a fuzziness in the air. It also looked very, very big.

Do you go to the dentist on a regular basis?

I am off up the mountains. I did go to guitar class. Pia the postman is picking me up for the trio on Friday. Apparently, they miss me. Who would have thought?
The first tomato is bright red...and roughly the size of a pea. My gardening skills are unheard of, legendary. The beetroot from last year remain at four inches. The radishes, however, are three feet tall and covered in white flowers. The radishes themselves look like pieces of wood. Yum.

Birds in a Storm

A mixture of Ultrafractal 4.0, Photoshop and a demo version of Adobe CS3 but it's run out time now.
Spain has lousy weather today. We had a cup of coffee with Alice who used to be Frank at her place. This is all part of the helpful scheme to actually get me up and running again after wimping out on the last bike ride. Will I get to guitar class tomorrow? Come on Gods, give me a break.
I knew a lady once whose motto was "It's all for the best really". Her house caught fire three times, she divorced: Her son fathered a child at age eleven, her daughter became an addict and a television star, she had an affair with a priest (the mother not the daughter), moved to the States to stay at her daughter's house, son- in- law chucked her out and now she's living in Morrocco with her son...in a house that has electricity only four hours a day.