Awake! For, Morning, in the Bowl of Night, has flung the Stone that puts the Stars to Flight
And, Lo, has caught the Sultan’s Turret in a Noose of Light

Spanish life is not always likeable but it is compellingly loveable
– Christopher Howse: ‘A Pilgrim in Spain’

Cosas de España/Galiza 

Non-EU visitors to Spain will soon have to prove their financial viability. This will be done, it’s said, by showing cash, traveller’s cheques, payment letters(whatever they are), or credit cards with sufficient funds available on them. Not really a sensible way to treat the many, many Brits who come here and I can’t see it being down down in more-sensible Portugal. It’ll be interesting to see what percentage of tourist families are subjected to the Spanish Inquisition. Which no one expects, of course.

The tour groups in Pv city are getting out of hand. Yesterday, I saw one of more than 30 folk, clogging a narrow street. And one which looked like it was a coach tour from the Galician hills. As it probably was, today being a Galician holiday – St James. Meaning that Pv city will be, as it always is on a día festive, like a graveyard. It being a fine day, most residents will go to one of our numerous local beaches. What they all do in winter has defied my understanding for more than 20 years.

Some trivia that’s at least topical . . . Driving down to the Elite Women’s triathlon yesterday morning, I found the police had closed off all the roads on my side of the river, forcing me to drive through the city to a spot a kilometre away from the start. Which I then covered at a fast-walk and just made it in time. As the competitors finished the swim and set off on their bikes, there were 2 Brits in the leading 4 but they lost out in the final 10km run, with one of them coming in 4th and the other 8th. Impressively, there were 5 Spanish women in the first 10.

In the evening, I drove down to my normal sparking spot on a bit of wasteland in Lérez, to find it full to the gills. Although the races had finished several hours earlier, the police hadn’t re-opened the 2 large carparks there, adjacent to a visiting funfair. Which seemed odd – not to say daft – to me.

This morning, my friend Mark called to suggest an early coffee as he was in town for a couple of hours. Parking in my usual spot, I wasn’t surprised to see him turning onto the wasteland because the 2 public parking lots were still closed. It’s a Galician holiday today – St James –  so I guess the police knocked off midday yesterday.

I told Mark I was expecting a plumber and a painter this week but he righty pointed out they wouldn’t be coming today. What he should also have said is that there wouldn’t be the Pilates class I left him to go to . . .

But, turning the lemon into lemonade, I returned to the city to continue a project I embarked on yesterday – ‘mapping’ the c.200 coats-of-arms (escudos) that adorn the houses of the (ex)burghers of Pv city. With this info, I’ll be able to answer the questions of occasional bugger who asks about the identity of families represented in them. Which can range, I saw last night, from 1 to 10.

So, that’s what I’m off to do now, with the intention of posting tomorrow fotos of a couple of the finest escudos, with added info!

France

Thanks to the French disruption to Dover’s exit system, I will yet again be refusing to go there this summer. But they probably won’t miss me.

The Way of the World

Ruthless big tech. Taster: Deliveroo – While you may think you’re ordering from a restaurant or local takeaway, much of the food is produced in ‘dark kitchens’, which prepare meals under multiple brand names. 

Uber and the ruthlessness of Big Tech

Click here if you want to see criticism/destruction of the transgenderist argument that sex is ‘bimodal’, not ‘binary’.

The Muddling of the American Mind: Part I

Social Media/Quote of the Day 

By Jon Culshaw: Social media has coarsened discussion. There’s a big chunk of it where people aren’t really interested in the whys and wherefores of what’s being said. It’s just used as a form of attention-seeking. I think offence and outrage and virtue have become a currency and a form of traction. People use it as a camouflage for self-promotion.

Finally  . . .

Les Dawson was a comedian of my youth. He came from Collyhurst in Lancashire. A classic one liner of his: Back in Collyhurst, the residents are convinced that mould is the national flower.

For new readers: If you’ve landed here looking for info on Galicia or Pontevedra, try here. If you’re passing through Pontevedra on the Camino, you’ll find a guide to the city there.