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/Galicia

The Talgo affair . . . Per the FT here, Spain vetoed the Hungarian bid for the train group ‘over Ukraine concerns’. Madrid didn’t want Budapest to acquire Talgo gauge technology that Kyiv needs for its rail system, says an official. Beats me. Other theories certainly seem more plausible.

Incidentally. . . A paragraph of that article relates to the problems with the AVE high-speed trains circumventing Ourense. Or trying to: Variable gauge technology was developed in Spain because the country, unusually, uses multiple track widths: the most common is a 1,668mm Iberian gauge, but there is a 1,000mm narrow gauge in the north, while Spain’s high-speed trains run on standard European tracks. I feel sure that Franco is, in some way, responsible for the resulting mares’ nest and for our problems in getting to and from Madrid rapidly or without transferring to buses for part of the way.

Spain is said here to be experiencing a rental ‘nightmare that has caused monthly payments to soar, in some parts of the country more than others. It’s certainly happened in Pv city, for example.

We’re very familiar with narco-subs up here in Galicia. It’s good to read here of Royal Navy success against one en route from Colombia, very possibly to our coast.

News for tourists: As with Brits (and Americans) coming into the EU, now Spaniards (and other Europeans and Americans) will soon have to pay a fee to enter the UK, under a new ETA system. See here.

Hats off to this young Spaniard, who’s said to have invented an incredible device which reduces home water consumption by up to 50%’.

I am a great admirer of the Galician artist and writer, Alfonso Castelao. This is a rather untypical work – ‘Sea wind’ – that I hadn’t seen until it appeared in a local paper yesterday. It features the artist himself.

Well, yet another adverse Camino consequence last night . . . All 12 of the tables on my favourite restaurant terrace were occupied by ‘pilgrims’ – reflecting the fact that the numbers of these are even higher in September – once my favourite month – than in summer. I suspect the popularity of the place is the result of very positive reviews on Tripadvisor, which they all religiously consult as they enter the city. Maybe it’s time for some bad ones from me, re gastroenteritis perhaps. Though this might not be necessary, as the owner – a close friend – has assured me he’ll always add a (probably unlicensed) table for me and my friends. If not, we’ll have to get better at reserving a table before the hordes do.

Which reminds me . . . A third of Spaniards say there are too many foreign tourist in their bailiwick.

The UK & The EU

I suspect this is correct: Europe’s Right-wards shift, a product of its existential failure on growth, innovation, and migration, has dashed any real hope of Labour ever rejoining the EU. When the penny finally drops, this will deal the British Left a profound psychological blow.

Germany

Even The Guardian sees that Germany’s border clampdown threatens the entire European project

The USA

A British judge looks here at a recent Supreme Court decision and at its implications for the Constitution and US politics. Truly astonishing. Maybe there will be a civil war, after all.

Spanish

• Un casting: An audition.
• Bajar las verjas: To lower the grills = To put up the shutters, to close down.
• Atragantarse: To choke: To lose one’s train of thought. Google Translate: To struggle with

Did you know?

If you rearrange the letters in WHAT IS THE MEANING OR PURPOSE OF LIFE?, you get WINNIE-THE-POOH, SUFFER PIGLET’S AROMA. Feel free to check and advise . . .

Finally . .

The greenfinches are back.

Finally, Finally . .

MY YEAR IN THE SEYCHELLES

• Part 1: 12 September 2024: Why VSO?

Part 2: 13 September 2024: The Leaving of Liverpool

My interview at VSO in London involved me sitting on a chair facing a panel of 4 or 5 dignitaries whose task it was, I guess, to check whether I was up to the challenge. Fair enough, I was only 18 and it’s relevant to note that VSO long ago stopped sending ‘cadets’ of this age overseas. Two questions stand out. The first was:- “What would you do if one of your colleagues was arrested for political subversion?” Having first clarified they’d said ‘subversion’ and not ‘perversion’, I gave an answer which must have avoided this obvious bear-trap. I can’t recall what I said but it presumably wasn’t along the lines that I’d contact the British tabloid press and kick up a huge fuss that would embarrass VSO. And get me imprisoned too. The second question was:- “Is there any special reason why you have a beard?” When I asked what on earth this meant, someone said “Well, is it because you want a hide a weak chin?”. When I said it was only to make me look older as I had a young face, the response was that I’d have to shave it off if they gave me an assignment. I distinctly recall this comment as, being from the North, it was the first time in my life I’d heard the word ‘off’ pronounced as ‘orf’. Anyway, I was cheeky enough to ask them why. To which the final word on the subject was “Because a beard doesn’t conform to the foreigner’s idea of an Englishman.” I naturally thought this was tosh but was desperate to succeed so said nothing. Later I did shave ‘orf’ the beard prior to attending the training course but started to re-grow it the day I arrived in the Seychelles. Only to have it shaved ‘orf’ in rather strange circumstances midway through the year. But that’s for later.

There was one more incident of note attached to this saga. After I’d applied to VSO in early 1965 but before I’d been accepted and assigned to the Seychelles, there’d been a visit to the school from a Minister of the Zambian government. Probably in the spring term of that year. Presumably because the school felt it would be good for the Zambian government to be pressurising VSO to send me to their country, it was arranged for me to meet this chap in the headmaster’s study. At which he was charm personified. Later that day, he addressed the entire school from the stage in the Assembly Hall. Either because I’d been instructed to or because I felt it was a good idea, when question-time came, I asked him something from the floor. Kindly remembering my name, he started his response with “Well, Colin. . .” The initial result was barely-suppressed giggling among all my adjacent class colleagues. Which I naturally tried to repress as my future apparently depended on keeping the Zambian gentleman sweet. But worse was to follow. For the expression “Well, Colin . . ” – delivered in a plummy African voice – became a school catch-phrase, to be addressed to me by all and sundry until I finally left the place in June 1965.

So, how come the Seychelles? . . .I have no idea why I struck so lucky. After all, I’d been more than half expecting to be sent to Zambia. So I was surprised to receive a letter telling me I’d been assigned to a Catholic boys’ grammar school in the capital city of Victoria in the Seychelles. And also confused, as I has no idea of where these were. In 1965 the islands were still years away from having an airport and becoming a well-established tourist spot. So I got out the atlas and found they were about a thousand miles east of Mombasa in Kenya. This was thrilling news. Though the long list of injections I’d have to have certainly wasn’t.

My mother’s reaction, as I recall, was the worried question “Is it in the Tropics?”.

I had the injections at the School of Tropical Medicine in Liverpool. The yellow fever one wasn’t too bad but the combined typhoid and para-typhoid jab delivered me a mild dose of fever. As I lay in one of the bunk beds I shared with my younger brother, the elder of my two sisters demonstrated a singular lack of sympathy for my plight. Which has probably affected our relationship ever since.

Some time ahead of my departure, I attended a reception in the splendid Liverpool town hall for those us about to leave on VSO assignments. There’s probably a photo or two of this in the archives of the Liverpool Echo.

A few weeks prior to leaving the UK, I attended a training course in, I think, Gillingham in Kent. My outstanding memories are of long hours of tedium and attending modules irrelevant to me, though the details are lost. I also recall my feeling of relief when it was finally decided that I wasn’t one of those needing a hepatitis jab.

But my strongest recollection is of being persuaded to do a stand-up comedy routine for the end-of-course stage show. For this, I used the prop of a bar stool, modelling myself on a popular comedian of the time, Dave Allen. Anyway, the performance was a huge success – one of the highlights of my life – but I was roundly castigated by the VSO officials for a joke centred on an uncle who worked in a crematorium with a side-business, selling ‘Ready-Brek’ to cannibals. In possibly an early example of political correctness, they felt this sort of thing was inappropriate for someone about to go off to work in the developing world. Perhaps they feared my act had been so successful it would be reported in the Seychelles press ahead of my arrival.

A more essential element of my pre-departure process was a visit to a shop in Liverpool which specialised in tropical gear. But the only items I recall buying are long white socks and a pair of white trousers. Or ‘ducks’ as I think they were called. I don’t remember the name of the shop but I rather doubt it’s still in business.

My younger sister says she remembers my departure by train from Lime Street station. If she’s right, I’m sure my mother would have been there too and could corroborate this.

My thanks to those readers who take the trouble to Like my posts, either after reading on line or in my FB group Thoughts from Galicia.

The Usual Links . . .

• You can get my posts by email as soon as they’re published. With the added bonus that they’ll contain the typos I’ll discover later. I believe there’s a box for this at the bottom of each post. If you do this but don’t read the posts, I will delete your subscription. So perhaps don’t bother if you have other reasons for subscribing . . .
• 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.
• For those thinking of moving to Spain:– This is an extremely comprehensive and accurate guide to the challenge, written by a Brit who lives in both the North and the South and who’s very involved in helping Camino walkers. And this is something on the so-called Beckham Rule, which is beneficial – tax-wise – for folk who want to work here. Finally, some advice on getting a mortgage. And this article ‘debunks claims re wealth and residency taxes’. Probably only relevant if you’re a HNWI. In which case, you’ll surely know what that stands for.