Hard Times

It's well over a week since I read a letter in the paper.
And I can't get it out of my mind.

The heading was 'I fear the winter and hope for nothing'. It was written by an ordinary working class bloke who had a heart attack in the same week as his wife. They are unable to work and have become poor.

Although they have been told it is essential for them to keep warm they can't afford the fuel. Neither can they afford fresh fruit nor many other healthy foods that we take for granted.

The full letter is here.

On the following day there was a reply from someone who lived here:

[Ed: That's the third time you've used this picture]

It said .... "While the middle classes worry about the value of their properties and how much petrol costs, people like the letter writer struggle for their very existence. I felt the anger rise in my chest as I read, because nothing sums up the state of this country better". ...

I also feel angry and want to do something for this family and others like them.
I could send a cheque - but they wouldn't want that because it would be charity.

Why can't my taxes be used to keep them warm and well fed?

I don't want my taxes to be used:

X: for Bombing civilians

X: for Flying worthless princes to stag nights

X: for Paying MP's expenses


X: or for Encouraging rampant pensioners to go gallivanting up and down from Land's End to John O'Groats and paying not one single penny.

I want to help people who are cold and poor and ill or need to care for sick children or relatives.

If Gordon really needs more tax to care for us all let him take it from those who can afford it - me included.


And I shall slap the next person who says " I'm not really interested in politics".

KAZ

Blackpool

The whisky in this box is long gone.

Amazingly - I found it in Avignon in southern France and brought it back for mum.
She did her courting in Blackpool in the days when it was glamorous.

So I'm not snobbish about Blackpool. I spent a day there on the Friday before I went to Spain.

This time I couldn't sit on the beach with my bucket and spade. Damn those tides.

OK the entertainment on offer did make me feel a bit snobby.

I've always loved the North pier.


But some people can't wait to get off it.


I have boxes of photos of Kaz and Kaz's ancestors smiling for the camera on these benches. Glad to see they're getting a new coat of paint.



Here's the famous Winter Gardens

It's the scene of many a Labour and Tory party conference as well as this.

Not much difference perhaps?
KAZ

Communication Skills.

click to make me even bigger

A big THANKYOU to everyone who came over to Catalunya to see me.

Murph - I'm sorry about that business with the Mossos - my fault - I should have told you that dogs weren't allowed on the beach.

Don't worry, I'm sure the bichon frisé owner will eventually drop the charges.

Anyway, as I said before, my Catalan isn't improving at all - so it's been great to have some English chat in the comments box.

But if it's absolutely necessary to communicate with the locals, this is what I do.....
....Assuming a beaming smile (not easy for me as you know but absolutely vital in this case) I wave my hands in self effacing, non threatening, apologetic gestures.

This seems to endear me to people along the lines of - here's another useless foreigner who can't be arsed to learn Catalan - but at least she seems pleasant and probably a bit simple.

Kindness usually follows.
Here are some residents who didn't demand much conversation.



Seeya Saturday when I shall return to face up to my responsibilities.

KAZ

Muffin Top

I picked up the (free) Manchester Evening News in the airport on the way over. It was 6a.m. so that gave a whole new meaning to the term 'Evening'.

TWO Articles grabbed my attention:

Beverley Callard (Liz McDonald) is following in the steps of Elsie Tanner and Vera Duckworth. She has opened a pub in Hale Barns (posh).

But it's not doing well.

Bev's had to postpone her wedding and sell her house in Eccles (not posh).

"It's not as easy as it is on Coronation Street " she tells us. "I blame the credit crunch and the smoking ban. Now I can't smoke I keep eating Custard Creams (my favourites) and I'm developing a muffin top which doesn't look good with the body con".

"Luckily they're into vanity sizing in the Alderley Edge boutiques so that saves my blushes when I'm shopping. They're always out to embarrass a sleb or do a bit of cosplay in short skirts and high heels".

Bev (51) hired her 'son' Andy (the less good looking twin) to run the pub. But even though he introduced colourful mocktails for the WAGs, she had to lay him off.

So he'll need to take out a sub - prime or go and work in a boiler room.

Liz had been reading the other article about the new entries in the Oxford English Dictionary.

KAZ

Dream

Do you know anything about dreams?

I've been having the same one for about two years now ....and it's all about WORK!

Last night it was really bad.

I'm in a frenzied panic because I haven't set or marked the practical assessment of the A level. The results are due soon, all the students will fail and my ineptitude will be exposed.

This assessment was the worst part of my job which I always left until the last minute. The marking was excruciatingly boring and time consuming.

I blame it for driving me to the drink.

But when I wake up from the dream the relief that it's all in the past and they'll never catch me is overwhelming.

Almost worth it.

However, last night I had the dream THREE times.

Each one was more terrifying than its predecessor and by the end the story was headlines in the tabloids, the parents were taking out law suits and I was forced to flee the country in disguise .

??????????
This time it stayed with me all morning.
KAZ

Things I Hate about Spain

I love Spain but there are some things that really annoy me.

1: The Noise:

The Spanish don't do quiet.

Bob the Builder or Jordi the Joiner starts his banging every morning at eight o'clock. Fair enough - but at 8.15 a.m. precisely he stop for his tea break*.

*What's the Spanish equivalent?

2: Siesta

OK, even though Jordi interrupted your sleep, there's still croissants to be eaten, coffee to be drunk and crosswords to be solved.

But, suppose you fancy a day out to broaden the mind - maybe a visit to some Medieval rampart, Romanesque cloister or Visigothic settlement.

By the time you arrive it's shut and the relentless heat is sapping the last drop of life from the mad dogs and English persons in the deserted town square.

Yes - I know birdwatchers should be early risers but I wouldn't make the effort for a Visigoth.

3: Graffiti:

If it exits in Spain it gets covered in graffiti.

Some of it is fabulous, but most of it's crap. The Spanish don't seem to bother - or perhaps they've given up.

The windows of my train from Barcelona were covered in it as were the shelters and place names of all the stations.

Hold on a minute this 'tag' looks familiar.

4: Dinner Time

Sorry señor - I simply can't wait for dinner at 10pm.

By this time I am unlikely to be at the table.

But you may find me underneath it.

KAZ

PISO

I'd like to tell you about the apartment where we stay in Catalunya.

It's not a holiday flat with a sea view or something you'd buy on a Sunday afternoon at the Reebok stadium.

It's called a *piso*. In Catalan this means you can look out of the back and the front.

In Manchester I live in a non piso flat. I can see the garden/car park through my window, but I have to go through the front door before I see the parade of students in the street.

The piso is in a street above a shop and you look out the window to see other flats above other shops. Here's a pic of the daily routine when the vans are loaded up for the scheduled jobs.

It’s not a quiet life.

If you turn right at the front door It's a 5 min walk to the beach and the beautiful bay.

If you turn left it’s the hills and the Sardinian warblers.

Best of all it's on the edge of the 'Parc Natural'.


It’s about 45 minutes from France - note the flags, they are Catalan too.....

.... so there's always lots of French and Germans around but the Brits only arrive in significant numbers during August when I'll be back in Manchester.

Unfortunately my Catalan isn’t improving.

KAZ

Carbon Footprint

Do you travel on the bus?

Probably not.

Maybe the tube or the train or the tram?

We have plenty of buses round here. They come along in gangs and battle it out for my fare of 0 pence.

But it's not the nicest way to get around.

There's something odd about the airflow in buses.

When a perspiring pie eater reaches the top deck, collapses on a seat and open the windows, Kaz is always the one to freeze. An open window near the front results in Arctic conditions near the back.

Buses can't slip along side roads and 'rat runs' so they are excruciatingly SLOW!
OK, I know there's the bus lane but it's always full of buses.

But - I'm doing my bit to save the planet.

The old 'onda is a bit of a guzzler so I ration its outings. It's days are probably limited anyway.


When Bono flies out to meet the Pope or George Bush people don't rant about his carbon footprint.

They just say 'What a Tosser'

So call me a Tosser if you wish - but I'm off again.

This time I'll try to keep posting - even though I will get far fewer comments that way.
KAZ

JUNKIES

This is an advert for a drug.

We all know it's illegal to sell drugs.

The drug companies are only permitted to sell or advertise their prescription drugs to the medical profession.

Here is the complete advert for the pic above.

I'd like some of this Indolgina drug -

I could wash this pill down with a cold glass of Sauvignon.


Mornidine is helping this woman to kill her spouse


NHS Blog doctor stopped seeing drug reps in his practice twenty years ago. He does not accept honoraria from the drug companies e.g. logo bearing gifts, free dinners or promotional parties.

Perhaps we should all forget drugs and try the 'hands on' approach.

KAZ