Whensday?

Not the best of mornings. In fact it was an awful morning. Magpies, incidentally are monogamous and more intelligent than most primates. They both make and adapt tools and have a sense of playfulness. So if you see one on his own, make sure you say hello. I haven't seen a lone magpie this morning or I might have been forewarned.

I had to go to the dole office. What the Spanish social security service lacks in desolutory, crapulous desperation, it makes up for in shear stupidity; a bureaucratic ineptitude designed to test Buddha.

Dole Office

Jacky didn't seem to mind the place though. He danced, swaggered about, sang, and was friendly towards everybody, an ambassador for humankind and the power of a broad smile.

Rest period - who is my next target?

 I had an appointment for precisely 10:12 Hours. This was my third visit. The office already had all of my details and copies of my wage slips, contract and assorted stuff. The person who designed the appointment system must have had a sense of humour. Not ten past ten or ten o'clock but, "10:12 hours". It seems to suggest a demanding level of precision. At approximately 12 0'clock I find myself in front of a personage who looks like she wouldn't mind bringing back corporal punishment - for the under 5's. She had a sneer on her lip, the product of scorn, a misguided sense of superiority, and loathing all mixed up with lemon juice and castor oil (whatever that is). She was neurologically challenged. Or, as we used to say, a cretin. One of those people whose default position is a kind of aggressive intransigence. She all but refused to explain anything and expected me to be on my way. To cut a long story short, after a few minutes I was incandescent. I have to go back in two weeks. This hare-brained job's-worth, and others like her, is only one of the problems with Spanish bureaucracy. The other two are that there is a lot of corruption and no meritocracy only mediocrity.

When I got out of the building my car was covered in about one tonne (metric) of bird shit. The logistical likelihood of covering a car in so much shit in such a relatively short time leads me to think that there are dark forces at work. This suspicion was reinforced by the substantial dent on the driver's side. Jacky also received a nasty scratch on his cheek while playing with a pretty little girl in the dole office; Here's where you start learning about the fairer sex. Now, I need a booster.

"cafe con leche, largo de cafe"

This is, as you might conceivably have guessed, a picture of my coffee. It embodies everything that is right with Spanish culture. It's strong, delicious and supremely invigorating.



Here is today's poem:

Poetry of Departures

Sometimes you hear, fifth-hand,
As epitaph:
He chucked up everything
And just cleared off,
And always the voice will sound
Certain you approve
This audacious, purifying,
Elemental move.

And they are right, I think.
We all hate home
And having to be there:
I detest my room,
It's specially-chosen junk,
The good books, the good bed,
And my life, in perfect order:
So to hear it said

He walked out on the whole crowd
Leaves me flushed and stirred,
Like Then she undid her dress
Or Take that you bastard;
Surely I can, if he did?
And that helps me to stay
Sober and industrious.
But I'd go today,

Yes, swagger the nut-strewn roads,
Crouch in the fo'c'sle
Stubbly with goodness, if
It weren't so artificial,
Such a deliberate step backwards
To create an object:
Books; china; a life
Reprehensibly perfect.