I RECEIVED a complimentary email about my scribblings recently. What’s nice is that it came from a respected journalist. But it was prefaced with a comment about my tendency to ramble which was hurtful. However I should just be content with the nice bits.
Still – ramble?
Our neighbours are away, and tooled up with do-do bags, I am again going for pleasant walks in the cool ends of the day with their dog. She’s getting on a bit, so is content to trot gently along, stopping when she needs to answer the doggie call of nature – usually on some rubbish strewn waste ground thoughtfully provided by Orihuela town hall.
Trouble is, as a non-dog owner, I am forever bumping into unfamiliar dogs and their people. The dogs always seem to know each other and after a bit of nose bumping, they progress to the less tasteful bit of socialising, with their noses glued to each other’s backsides.
It’s embarrassing – well not for the dogs obviously – but what do you do? If you drag yours away, then it is tantamount to cruelty because this is accepted pooch behaviour. Moreover it only emphasises the fact that you are embarrassed, whereas the experienced dog people seem oblivious. But I make a mental note not to allow my charge to lick my face when we get back.
I was in the Zenia Boulevard yesterday and a tiny child stood in the doorway of one of the big stores and screamed blue murder for no apparent reason. The parents looked on lovingly, and every passing customer smiled encouragingly. The shop assistants turned and beamed, and even the security guard, who looked as if he could eat nails, was chortling away happily.
Why am I not like normal people? It’s all deeply depressing.
Here’s something interesting I saw: Britain was involved in WW2 for 6 years; the Soviet Union for 4 years 2 months and the Americans for 3 years 9 months.
Now you know what to say when you hear a Yank tell you they won the war.