Click here for an amusing rant about what’s wrong with Britain. And, in one phrase each, what’s wrong with all the emigration options. All tongue in cheek, of course.
This article, one has say, contrasts sharply with the news report the other week that the UK is the third most popular destination for folk looking to emigrate from their own unhappy hearth. The top position, as I recall, went to the USA, and Spain came in at fifth. If memory serves me correctly, another two Anglo countries were in the top 10, raising questions about what it is - apart from English (and a generous benefits system in the case of the UK) – people are looking for. Obviously not the weather in the case of the UK.
As for Spain, click here for a recent article from The Economist on corruption here. As ever, the comments are more interesting than the article itself. Particularly those from Spanish contributors, who may or may not be truly representative of the nation as a whole.
Finally . . . One of the joys of Madrid is coming upon a magnificent church you’ve never seen before. Often down a side street. This impressive neo-Byzantine affair, though, is near one of the Alcalá exits from the Retiro park, right on the main road.
On the other hand, it’s irritating to find that very few of the tapas bars in the barrio of Salamanca are open at midday Sunday. And so you’re forced to get mediocre sandwiches from a branch of the Viena Capellanes chain. Life can be tough at times.
Sunday, November 08, 2009
Saturday, November 07, 2009
Confirmation that it really is the Age of the Bureaucrat has come with the news that wars about sovereignty are now being fought by desk-wallahs. And, in the case of Britain, lost by them as well. Seems only right.
Given that I’ve written so much about George Borrow in recent months, it was hardly likely I’d visit Madrid without walking the streets cited in his Bible in Spain. Especially as they’re all pretty close to my daughter’s flat in Malasaña. Unfortunately, Calle de la Zarza has gone but the other three streets are still where they were in 1837 and 1838:-
- Calle Montera Borrow described as “One of the richest streets of the city, where reside the principal merchants and shopkeepers of Madrid. It is, in fact, the street of commerce, in which respect, and in being a favourite promenade, it corresponds with the far-famed “Nefsky” of Saint Petersburg.” Well, it’s still a wide street of commerce, all the better for being pedestrianised. Or ‘humanised’ as the Spanish nicely put it. And it does have a charming large building on the corner of the junction with Gran Vía. But this now houses a McDonalds outlet and the most common sight in Montera itself is of a young lady leaning against a door jamb, dressed in a uniform of leather jacket, tight jeans and leather boots. Whom I don’t recall Borrow mentioning.
- Calle del Principe – where GB set up his own shop – he describes as “A respectable and well-frequented street in the neighbourhood of the Square of Cervantes.” The good news is that it still has two bookshops. The bad news is that it has an equal number of Irish bars. Apart from this, there’s the usual collection of tapas bars, cafés, restaurants, hostels, opticians and pharmacies that comprise a central Madrid street. But it also has a Comedy Theatre and a Museum of Galician Bread. Which, of course, is really just a fancy name for a bread shop. Most fascinatingly, one of the Irish bars is called El Parnasillo. Which was established not long before Borrow arrived, in 1830. If, unlike me, he’d ever found it open, he might just have visited it. Even though it’s next door to the Catholic church of St Ignatius de Loyola, of Jesuit fame.
- Calle Santiago, where Borrow lived during his second stint in Madrid, he described as merely being “in the vicinity of the palace”. Like Principe, its single bookshop is matched by an Irish bar and, as in the other two streets, there’s no evidence whatsoever of one its most famous residents. But, then, the house where he lived has long been knocked down. So where would they put a blue plaque? At the end of the street, stands the large church of Saint James (Santiago) and St John the Baptist. Which must have been a constant reminder to GB of what he was up against, as he strove to flog his Protestant Bible (really just the New Testament) to the Godless Papists of the capital city.
Not long after I’d set off on this mini-trek, I came upon a surprisingly orderly queue in Gran Vía, stretching 25 metres along the street itself and another 25 round the corner. I assumed it was for a cinema but soon realised it was for a booth selling tickets for the Christmas lottery. Presumably this has had some previous success and, for people with little logic and even less knowledge of statistics, this makes it the preferred outlet. Just as it would have in 1837, no doubt.
Given that I’ve written so much about George Borrow in recent months, it was hardly likely I’d visit Madrid without walking the streets cited in his Bible in Spain. Especially as they’re all pretty close to my daughter’s flat in Malasaña. Unfortunately, Calle de la Zarza has gone but the other three streets are still where they were in 1837 and 1838:-
- Calle Montera Borrow described as “One of the richest streets of the city, where reside the principal merchants and shopkeepers of Madrid. It is, in fact, the street of commerce, in which respect, and in being a favourite promenade, it corresponds with the far-famed “Nefsky” of Saint Petersburg.” Well, it’s still a wide street of commerce, all the better for being pedestrianised. Or ‘humanised’ as the Spanish nicely put it. And it does have a charming large building on the corner of the junction with Gran Vía. But this now houses a McDonalds outlet and the most common sight in Montera itself is of a young lady leaning against a door jamb, dressed in a uniform of leather jacket, tight jeans and leather boots. Whom I don’t recall Borrow mentioning.
- Calle del Principe – where GB set up his own shop – he describes as “A respectable and well-frequented street in the neighbourhood of the Square of Cervantes.” The good news is that it still has two bookshops. The bad news is that it has an equal number of Irish bars. Apart from this, there’s the usual collection of tapas bars, cafés, restaurants, hostels, opticians and pharmacies that comprise a central Madrid street. But it also has a Comedy Theatre and a Museum of Galician Bread. Which, of course, is really just a fancy name for a bread shop. Most fascinatingly, one of the Irish bars is called El Parnasillo. Which was established not long before Borrow arrived, in 1830. If, unlike me, he’d ever found it open, he might just have visited it. Even though it’s next door to the Catholic church of St Ignatius de Loyola, of Jesuit fame.
- Calle Santiago, where Borrow lived during his second stint in Madrid, he described as merely being “in the vicinity of the palace”. Like Principe, its single bookshop is matched by an Irish bar and, as in the other two streets, there’s no evidence whatsoever of one its most famous residents. But, then, the house where he lived has long been knocked down. So where would they put a blue plaque? At the end of the street, stands the large church of Saint James (Santiago) and St John the Baptist. Which must have been a constant reminder to GB of what he was up against, as he strove to flog his Protestant Bible (really just the New Testament) to the Godless Papists of the capital city.
Not long after I’d set off on this mini-trek, I came upon a surprisingly orderly queue in Gran Vía, stretching 25 metres along the street itself and another 25 round the corner. I assumed it was for a cinema but soon realised it was for a booth selling tickets for the Christmas lottery. Presumably this has had some previous success and, for people with little logic and even less knowledge of statistics, this makes it the preferred outlet. Just as it would have in 1837, no doubt.
Friday, November 06, 2009
Corruption: You know that the something-must-be-done point really has arrived when you read a headline saying “Mayor was killed for opposing a real estate deal”. And you start to wonder how long it will be before Spain isn’t just used for Western movies but actually transmutes into the Wild West. Or simply becomes Italy Mark2.
Recession (and corruption) notwithstanding, foreigners continue to come to live in Spain in large numbers. Last year, there was a 10% increase in our numbers. The latest rankings and rough totals are:-
1. Morocco 0.8m
2. Romania 0.7m
3. Ecuador 0.4m
4. Colombia 0.3m
5. Britain 0.2m – Followed by folk from China, Italy, Peru, Bulgaria and Portugal.
There are, course, probably far more than 200,000 Brits living in Spain, as not all of them register as residents. And, when you’ve got personal possessions to protect, there can seem to be more than 700,000 Rumanians in Madrid alone. Which is a very unfair thing to say. Unless you’ve had your laptop snaffled by one of them.
Still on this theme . . . I blame Ben of Notes from Spain for this. He recently posted advice how to avoid having your valuables stolen in Madrid. The only one new to me was separating your credit cards from your cash. So I did this last night before boarding the train and, when I woke up this morning, couldn’t find the bloody cards. Only the wallet in which they would have been but for bloody Ben. After a mildly frantic search of everywhere else, I finally looked in my case and found them in a side pocket. I have nil memory of putting them there and, sadly, have to put this down to age.
The same applies to my inability to recall the name of the reintegrista Galician nationalist who used to post abusive comments to my blog. Which is a shame as he appears to have been single-handedly responsible for a large increase in my readership.
Which reminds me . . . I must reject out-of-hand the claim that our friend is really me, playing a convoluted game. However, I am inclined to go with the suggestion that, such is the abysmal image of Galician nationalists he creates, he’s actually a rabid Spanish nationalist who’s succeeding only too well in undermining his opponents. Those of you still reading his blog should perhaps bear this theory in mind when you recoil in incredulity - and possibly disgust - at its content. All might not be what it seems . . .
Recession (and corruption) notwithstanding, foreigners continue to come to live in Spain in large numbers. Last year, there was a 10% increase in our numbers. The latest rankings and rough totals are:-
1. Morocco 0.8m
2. Romania 0.7m
3. Ecuador 0.4m
4. Colombia 0.3m
5. Britain 0.2m – Followed by folk from China, Italy, Peru, Bulgaria and Portugal.
There are, course, probably far more than 200,000 Brits living in Spain, as not all of them register as residents. And, when you’ve got personal possessions to protect, there can seem to be more than 700,000 Rumanians in Madrid alone. Which is a very unfair thing to say. Unless you’ve had your laptop snaffled by one of them.
Still on this theme . . . I blame Ben of Notes from Spain for this. He recently posted advice how to avoid having your valuables stolen in Madrid. The only one new to me was separating your credit cards from your cash. So I did this last night before boarding the train and, when I woke up this morning, couldn’t find the bloody cards. Only the wallet in which they would have been but for bloody Ben. After a mildly frantic search of everywhere else, I finally looked in my case and found them in a side pocket. I have nil memory of putting them there and, sadly, have to put this down to age.
The same applies to my inability to recall the name of the reintegrista Galician nationalist who used to post abusive comments to my blog. Which is a shame as he appears to have been single-handedly responsible for a large increase in my readership.
Which reminds me . . . I must reject out-of-hand the claim that our friend is really me, playing a convoluted game. However, I am inclined to go with the suggestion that, such is the abysmal image of Galician nationalists he creates, he’s actually a rabid Spanish nationalist who’s succeeding only too well in undermining his opponents. Those of you still reading his blog should perhaps bear this theory in mind when you recoil in incredulity - and possibly disgust - at its content. All might not be what it seems . . .
Thursday, November 05, 2009
If I were asked about the basic rules for being happy in Spain, I’d say one of them was to take on board how important the personal factor is here. If you don’t like this and can’t be personable, live somewhere else. I was reminded of this when I called a vet last night because his brother had told me that, although he’d closed his kennels, he might still be willing to take my dog for a few days. Things didn’t go too well at first but he eventually put me on to his wife. And she said “Hola, Mr Colin. Yes, we’re happy to do it because we remember your dog.” So, there you have it. Proof positive that Ryan is more personable than me. Which possibly wasn’t a big secret.
The planned fusion between the two Galician savings banks has hit a rock. The bigger one has declined the hand of the other. This has thrown everybody into confusion, with the Bank of Spain calling for a merger between the smaller caja and one from another Community. This is, of course, anathema to the Galician Xunta as fusion with ‘foreigners’ would diminish its Galician-ness. Not to mention their influence in the new entity. So they’re pushing something called ‘virtual fusion’ (SIP, apparently). But the Bank of Spain, being (very) much more commercially oriented, wants nothing to do with this. Interesting times.
Three Galician hermanos (brothers or possibly siblings) recently scored the highest marks in not just one but two of the government’s tough civil service exams. This means they are either very, very clever or – because the questions were leaked to them – very, very stupid. An investigation has been initiated and we await the outcome with interest. I’ve opened a book on it but I have to admit the odds on the trio being brilliant are rather low.
My mother called me today to say that the government had told her they were reducing her pension as she had savings of more than 12,500 pounds. When she said she didn’t as she’d bought a new flat, the conversation led on to the service charge in her community and her entitlement to a payment to cover it. At 84. my mother is more financially secure than she’s been in her life, essentially because of benefits arising from her age, her lack of mobility and her solitary living. The last thing she actually needs is more money to put in her deposit account. But the benefit system in the UK appears to be black and white; either you don’t make the list and get nothing, or you do and they deluge you in cash. I should add that the service charge is 100 pounds a month and my mother is entitled to claim the back-payments of 2,400 pounds for the last two years. Hence the following conversation:-
Well. I’m not worried about that.
But you were told it was your right?
Yes.
And you can be sure that, when it comes to their turn, the government will take every last penny from your estate [i. e. me and my siblings] it thinks it’s entitled to?
Yes . . .
Well, then.
In this way does welfare distort the morality of every country, no matter how fundamentally ethical (or rich) its people are. No wonder folk are prepared to lie and cheat to get onto one of the lists for government largesse. And no wonder the numbers of welfare claimants are what they are in the UK. And the national debt is what that is too.
Here in Spain, the government announced a year or so ago higher benefits for those looking after the disabled. But it seems to be remarkably difficult to get hold of these. Firstly, because Spanish bureaucrats operate as an obstacle and not, as in the UK, as facilitators; and, secondly, because the government doesn’t now have the money it thought it would have when it introduced the law.
But, if you really want to see a bit of welfare madness, hie yourself to page 12 of edition no.1247 of Private Eye and learn how 40,000 people in England have been claiming an EU subsidy since 2005 simply because they can afford a field in which to put their expensive pony. Or, as the magazine puts it, “Farm subsidies remain of as much interest to readers of Horse and Hound as they are to Farmers’ Weekly.”
But to end on a lighter note, a Spanish joke . . .
Why is President Obama like a Latino? Because he doesn’t live in his own house; he lives with his mother-in-law; and he makes lots of promises he’s never going to keep.
The planned fusion between the two Galician savings banks has hit a rock. The bigger one has declined the hand of the other. This has thrown everybody into confusion, with the Bank of Spain calling for a merger between the smaller caja and one from another Community. This is, of course, anathema to the Galician Xunta as fusion with ‘foreigners’ would diminish its Galician-ness. Not to mention their influence in the new entity. So they’re pushing something called ‘virtual fusion’ (SIP, apparently). But the Bank of Spain, being (very) much more commercially oriented, wants nothing to do with this. Interesting times.
Three Galician hermanos (brothers or possibly siblings) recently scored the highest marks in not just one but two of the government’s tough civil service exams. This means they are either very, very clever or – because the questions were leaked to them – very, very stupid. An investigation has been initiated and we await the outcome with interest. I’ve opened a book on it but I have to admit the odds on the trio being brilliant are rather low.
My mother called me today to say that the government had told her they were reducing her pension as she had savings of more than 12,500 pounds. When she said she didn’t as she’d bought a new flat, the conversation led on to the service charge in her community and her entitlement to a payment to cover it. At 84. my mother is more financially secure than she’s been in her life, essentially because of benefits arising from her age, her lack of mobility and her solitary living. The last thing she actually needs is more money to put in her deposit account. But the benefit system in the UK appears to be black and white; either you don’t make the list and get nothing, or you do and they deluge you in cash. I should add that the service charge is 100 pounds a month and my mother is entitled to claim the back-payments of 2,400 pounds for the last two years. Hence the following conversation:-
Well. I’m not worried about that.
But you were told it was your right?
Yes.
And you can be sure that, when it comes to their turn, the government will take every last penny from your estate [i. e. me and my siblings] it thinks it’s entitled to?
Yes . . .
Well, then.
In this way does welfare distort the morality of every country, no matter how fundamentally ethical (or rich) its people are. No wonder folk are prepared to lie and cheat to get onto one of the lists for government largesse. And no wonder the numbers of welfare claimants are what they are in the UK. And the national debt is what that is too.
Here in Spain, the government announced a year or so ago higher benefits for those looking after the disabled. But it seems to be remarkably difficult to get hold of these. Firstly, because Spanish bureaucrats operate as an obstacle and not, as in the UK, as facilitators; and, secondly, because the government doesn’t now have the money it thought it would have when it introduced the law.
But, if you really want to see a bit of welfare madness, hie yourself to page 12 of edition no.1247 of Private Eye and learn how 40,000 people in England have been claiming an EU subsidy since 2005 simply because they can afford a field in which to put their expensive pony. Or, as the magazine puts it, “Farm subsidies remain of as much interest to readers of Horse and Hound as they are to Farmers’ Weekly.”
But to end on a lighter note, a Spanish joke . . .
Why is President Obama like a Latino? Because he doesn’t live in his own house; he lives with his mother-in-law; and he makes lots of promises he’s never going to keep.
Wednesday, November 04, 2009
If there is anything good about a hangover, it’s that you can be pretty sure it will pass with time. Or as Dean Martin allegedly put it, “I feel sorry for people who don’t drink. Because they know that, when they wake up, that’s the best they’re going to feel all day”.
The right-of centre PP party has joined the bandwagon and, after years of very public instances, has finally pronounced that something must be done about corruption. But the (left-of-centre) El País dismisses its proposals as ‘ethereal’. I guess the socialist PSOE party will be along with theirs soon. Especially as the latest headline case involves their Catalan section. As for the public attitude to corruption – and perhaps explaining why there’s been so much foot-dragging – one of main papers today confirmed what we all know – that voters are switched off far more by internal party wrangling and disunity than by regular reports of financial skulduggery. Or right-of-centre voters at least.
All of which reminds me I’ve been meaning to mention a recent survey of the declared assets of Señor Zapatero’s cabinet. As I recall, the totals ranged from a high of around 5 million to a low of 60,000 euros. The former belonged to a relatively minor, but rich, Ministress and the latter to one of the Vice-Presidents, Señor Chaves. As the latter had been President of the Andalucian government for almost 30 years, revelation of his (lack of) wealth was greeted with universal incredulity. Or, as one paper put it, writing about the survey as a whole, “with stupefaction, anger and even hilarity”.
My latest gas bill arrived today. It wasn’t too bad but I knew this already, as the money went out of my account two weeks ago. Which seems the wrong way round to me. The same thought occurred when I read that Spain’s shopkeepers will soon allowed to add 1% to the bills of customers using a credit card. The alleged reason is to force the banks to reduce their charges. But why should they, if they get passed on to the customer? Anyway, what chances now of growth in the country’s black economy? For which no one, by the way, seems to believe the official figure of 20% of the total?
Another 20% figure which is highly questioned is that of Spain’s unemployment. But in this case it’s felt to be too high, not too low. This is because the Andalucian component is generally felt to be overstated, thanks to ‘Spanish practices’ down there.
I think I may have to go away long before December 25th. I’m not sure I can take much more of Tesco wishing me Happy Christmas every hour or so at the start of November.
Finally . . . Quote of the Week:
Most of us have a lot better to do that read blogs every day.
- Travel writer, Paul Theroux, speaking about criticisms of his work.
Not all blogs, obviously.
The right-of centre PP party has joined the bandwagon and, after years of very public instances, has finally pronounced that something must be done about corruption. But the (left-of-centre) El País dismisses its proposals as ‘ethereal’. I guess the socialist PSOE party will be along with theirs soon. Especially as the latest headline case involves their Catalan section. As for the public attitude to corruption – and perhaps explaining why there’s been so much foot-dragging – one of main papers today confirmed what we all know – that voters are switched off far more by internal party wrangling and disunity than by regular reports of financial skulduggery. Or right-of-centre voters at least.
All of which reminds me I’ve been meaning to mention a recent survey of the declared assets of Señor Zapatero’s cabinet. As I recall, the totals ranged from a high of around 5 million to a low of 60,000 euros. The former belonged to a relatively minor, but rich, Ministress and the latter to one of the Vice-Presidents, Señor Chaves. As the latter had been President of the Andalucian government for almost 30 years, revelation of his (lack of) wealth was greeted with universal incredulity. Or, as one paper put it, writing about the survey as a whole, “with stupefaction, anger and even hilarity”.
My latest gas bill arrived today. It wasn’t too bad but I knew this already, as the money went out of my account two weeks ago. Which seems the wrong way round to me. The same thought occurred when I read that Spain’s shopkeepers will soon allowed to add 1% to the bills of customers using a credit card. The alleged reason is to force the banks to reduce their charges. But why should they, if they get passed on to the customer? Anyway, what chances now of growth in the country’s black economy? For which no one, by the way, seems to believe the official figure of 20% of the total?
Another 20% figure which is highly questioned is that of Spain’s unemployment. But in this case it’s felt to be too high, not too low. This is because the Andalucian component is generally felt to be overstated, thanks to ‘Spanish practices’ down there.
I think I may have to go away long before December 25th. I’m not sure I can take much more of Tesco wishing me Happy Christmas every hour or so at the start of November.
Finally . . . Quote of the Week:
Most of us have a lot better to do that read blogs every day.
- Travel writer, Paul Theroux, speaking about criticisms of his work.
Not all blogs, obviously.
Tuesday, November 03, 2009
There is no blog tonight because I have today enjoyed one of those Spanish lunches that start at 1.30 and finish at 9.30.
If you think this is reprehensible, you should have seen the first draft of this.
And many subsequent drafts.
Thank God, I wasn’t planning to practice the piano tonight . . .
If you think this is reprehensible, you should have seen the first draft of this.
And many subsequent drafts.
Thank God, I wasn’t planning to practice the piano tonight . . .
Monday, November 02, 2009
Now, be honest – Have you ever heard of Herman Van Rompuy? Probably not but it appears he’s first in line for the Presidency of the EU. Having gained valuable experience as Prime Minister of that eminently successful union, Belgium. The bureaucrats’ bureaucrat, one imagines.
Well, El Mundo reports today that the Spanish public purse has been robbed of at least 4.2 billion euros in the last decade through corruption on the part of the country’s politicians. And, in a long editorial, the paper offers a ten-point plan for putting an end to this. I wonder if this will be any more effective than plans previously proposed to deal with the scandal of Spain’s massive prostitution industry.
Incidentally, I had a small sign of the relentless growth in the latter when returning from lunch on Friday, through the lanes in a local village. In the spot on a bend where there used to be just one (astonishingly unprepossessing) woman, there were now three rather large and gaudy African ‘ladies’. Business must be good. Perhaps because there’s a new Lidl store a hundred metres away.
Briefly back to corruption . . . El Mundo says that, in a survey of readers, 89% believed their town hall to be corrupt. One wonders about the 11% who didn’t. Are they spread evenly around the country, possibly including (or just comprising) the town idiot in each case? Or are they aggregated in the one blessed place in Spain where the members of the council are actually honest?
All foreigners living in Spain who have two first names and just one surname (i. e. most of them) will have experienced difficulty in getting their identity across to Spanish bureaucrats. And may even have been told they don’t actually exist as the computer can’t find them. This is because the custom in Spain is one first name and two surnames. Anyway, I thought of problems like this today when going through a box of old stuff for the (expurgated) autobiography I’m writing for my daughters. Specifically, when I came across the following versions of my name - one from the USA and one from Iran:-
In case you can't read this, it says Devil Colin Devies. Put very briefly, this one arises from the difficulty of transcribing Farsi letters into English when someone has written them badly. And because vowels are not written and so the word sometimes has to be guessed at.
Finally . . . I also came across the following and felt it appropriate to share it with you:-
A Prayer for the Stressed
Grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I cannot accept and the wisdom to hide the bodies of those I had to kill today because they got on my nerves
Help me to be careful of the toes I step on as these may be connected to the feet I have to kiss tomorrow.
And help me to remember – when I am having a bad day and it seems that people are trying to wind me up – it takes 42 muscles to frown, 28 to smile and only 4 to extend my arm and smack someone in the mouth.
Amen
Well, El Mundo reports today that the Spanish public purse has been robbed of at least 4.2 billion euros in the last decade through corruption on the part of the country’s politicians. And, in a long editorial, the paper offers a ten-point plan for putting an end to this. I wonder if this will be any more effective than plans previously proposed to deal with the scandal of Spain’s massive prostitution industry.
Incidentally, I had a small sign of the relentless growth in the latter when returning from lunch on Friday, through the lanes in a local village. In the spot on a bend where there used to be just one (astonishingly unprepossessing) woman, there were now three rather large and gaudy African ‘ladies’. Business must be good. Perhaps because there’s a new Lidl store a hundred metres away.
Briefly back to corruption . . . El Mundo says that, in a survey of readers, 89% believed their town hall to be corrupt. One wonders about the 11% who didn’t. Are they spread evenly around the country, possibly including (or just comprising) the town idiot in each case? Or are they aggregated in the one blessed place in Spain where the members of the council are actually honest?
All foreigners living in Spain who have two first names and just one surname (i. e. most of them) will have experienced difficulty in getting their identity across to Spanish bureaucrats. And may even have been told they don’t actually exist as the computer can’t find them. This is because the custom in Spain is one first name and two surnames. Anyway, I thought of problems like this today when going through a box of old stuff for the (expurgated) autobiography I’m writing for my daughters. Specifically, when I came across the following versions of my name - one from the USA and one from Iran:-
In case you can't read this, it says Devil Colin Devies. Put very briefly, this one arises from the difficulty of transcribing Farsi letters into English when someone has written them badly. And because vowels are not written and so the word sometimes has to be guessed at.Finally . . . I also came across the following and felt it appropriate to share it with you:-
A Prayer for the Stressed
Grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I cannot accept and the wisdom to hide the bodies of those I had to kill today because they got on my nerves
Help me to be careful of the toes I step on as these may be connected to the feet I have to kiss tomorrow.
And help me to remember – when I am having a bad day and it seems that people are trying to wind me up – it takes 42 muscles to frown, 28 to smile and only 4 to extend my arm and smack someone in the mouth.
Amen
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