What a week. Can't say that I'm in any hurry to repeat any of it.
Tragically, we lost a friend when a car - bicycle collision wiped out a life at only 35. Paco was the goalkeeper on Josh's old team, he used to teach Issey PE here at our little school, and always turned up back here in his native Murtas for fiestas etc...before you say a waste of life, it should be noted that he squeezed every second from every day he had, a fitness fanatic who would walk or run or cycle before anything else - RIP Paco.
The Mass took place on the coast before internment here, the first time I have attended a Spanish 'burial' and it was a bit of a cock up involving a crow bar and an AWOL priest - if I ever feel the need to attend another I shall do as the local ladies did - remember the hanky doused in 4711 cologne...opening up one of those hole in the wall affair graves means the previous occupant is right there too....a hold your breath and nose moment.
The next evening I felt like a gin and tonic - even though I am supposed to be in Sober October....the expatriate company already ensconced and well oiled in Bar Pinche wasn't in my plans. I finally said - shouted - what I should have said 2 years ago, and yes, I really do feel better! Keeping in with the theme of the week, I buried the hatchet - unfortunately not in the literal sense - and feel lighter for it...who would want to be friends with anyone who bases an entire friendship on a misinterpreted phrase? Not me.
Monday saw Issey awaken with sharp abdominal pains...no Medico until Tuesday so yesterday we headed off, as we walked up the hill I enquired of my bilingual offspring the best way to present the mid stream urine sample in Spanish.
Tragically, we lost a friend when a car - bicycle collision wiped out a life at only 35. Paco was the goalkeeper on Josh's old team, he used to teach Issey PE here at our little school, and always turned up back here in his native Murtas for fiestas etc...before you say a waste of life, it should be noted that he squeezed every second from every day he had, a fitness fanatic who would walk or run or cycle before anything else - RIP Paco.
The Mass took place on the coast before internment here, the first time I have attended a Spanish 'burial' and it was a bit of a cock up involving a crow bar and an AWOL priest - if I ever feel the need to attend another I shall do as the local ladies did - remember the hanky doused in 4711 cologne...opening up one of those hole in the wall affair graves means the previous occupant is right there too....a hold your breath and nose moment.
The next evening I felt like a gin and tonic - even though I am supposed to be in Sober October....the expatriate company already ensconced and well oiled in Bar Pinche wasn't in my plans. I finally said - shouted - what I should have said 2 years ago, and yes, I really do feel better! Keeping in with the theme of the week, I buried the hatchet - unfortunately not in the literal sense - and feel lighter for it...who would want to be friends with anyone who bases an entire friendship on a misinterpreted phrase? Not me.
Monday saw Issey awaken with sharp abdominal pains...no Medico until Tuesday so yesterday we headed off, as we walked up the hill I enquired of my bilingual offspring the best way to present the mid stream urine sample in Spanish.
Isobel - Ah that's easy Mum, you should know it..
- Hola, traigo mi meado....(see title)
I went for the mute hand signal approach.
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