Some of life's little anomalies.

We have been told that while we were in England Vigo had the hottest and driest July in a long time. According to a friend of ours, we would have melted. Well, we did have a week in The Manchester area when we very nearly melted. In that typical North of England way, the weather went from cool to scorching almost overnight. I crossed paths with a friend one morning while out for a run. She had been caught in the thunderstorm that had delayed my departure and was quite soaked. However, she was glad to have been given a shower as she was feeling so hot already at 8.30 in the morning. Contrary to some people's belief, we do have baking hot weather in England from time to time. You just have very little warning, no acclimatisation period and no guarantee that the "summer" will last more than a few days. 

So there it was, a hot Vigo July that we missed. What I want to know, if it truly was the driest July, is where did the huge puddle come from on the carpark down the road. This is one of those patches of waste land which people park on, not an official carpark but regularly used. Whenever it rains the middle of the area becomes muddy and eventually turns into a huge puddle. We went past it yesterday and there it was: a large puddle in the middle of the carpark. One of life's mysteries! 

Another mystery is why Facebook translates some posts in foreign languages into English but not all. In fact, the real mystery is why any of the posts are translated at all as the translation is almost always so poor as to be almost incomprehensible. One friend commented about her wedding anniversary: "Sono 24 anni" or something like that, meaning that it's been 24 years that she and her husband have been married. It translated to "I am 24 years". Surely there must be some way of programming an automatic translation programme to recognise that Latin-based languages don't do ages that way. 

Even better was a young friend's status update: "I am of cows!". Intrigued, I found the original Spanish: "¡Estoy de vacas!" Word for word the translation was correct but made no sense. My young friend was using the youth slang abbreviation "vacas" for "vacaciones". Autotranslate can't do slang or it would have said "I'm on my hols". 

Autocorrect is no better, giving weird and wonderful versions of what you really want to say. "Más tarde" changes to "mad stare", especially if you are typing it quickly in a text message and don't put the accent on the a of "más". Technology is a wonderful thing! Always proof read your text messages before hitting "send". 

 In view of the continuing fine and sunny weather, I expected our pool to be full when I went down this morning. But no; there were just a few people sunbathing, and all of them my age or older. Where is everyone? Are there no children around? Or has everyone gone to the beach? Of course, it is August so quite a lot of folk will have gone on holiday or at least gone off to their pueblo to see family or to stay in their place closer to the beaches. Not that I am complaining! Far from it! I really enjoy having an empty pool to swim in. 

And then I found myself having a strange conversation in a mix of Spanish and Italian. Strange only because of the language mix. A couple I have seen numerous times and assumed were Spanish were switching to Italian when answering the phone. They turned out to be Spanish, having been born here, but from an Italian background originally. And when you speak to them, they sort of drift from one language to the other. 

Life is full of curious things!

Technology matters !

Phil and I seem to be turning into the sort of people who have silly problems with technology. And not even complicated technology at that. There's the matter of leaving stuff behind. 

One of the most notable was when we were half way down the hill from our son's house to the railway station to make our way homewards when I remembered that my mobile phone was still plugged into a charger in our son's kitchen. I think I have never run uphill so fast as on that occasion, leaving Phil to manoeuvre two wheelie suitcases down the rest of the hill. And we caught the train... by a whisker, but certainly we caught it. 

There have been a number of cases where we have stayed at a friend's house and managed to leave an adapter plug behind. This has happened on more than one occasion. It's a bit like paying a token rent. 

Our son managed to walk off with one of our iPad chargers after his weekend at our house. This was not a problem as we had another. No, the problem arose because I successfully left the spare cable at home in the UK. 

Difficult stuff we can cope with; it's the nitty-gritty everyday stuff that gets to us! 

This morning we went down to MediaMarkt to purchase a new cable. All good! Except that the USB end of the cable is a new, more modern kind of USB: an example of the continuing miniaturisation of everything technological. So this afternoon we had to go back and try to change it, or at the very least buy an adapter so that it can be used. 

Well, we found a cable that fits the bill, but not an Apple gadget. So we bought it. Much cheaper than the wrong device. Amazingly, after much waiting around we even managed to get a refund on the first cable we bought. And this in spite of the pessimism of the young man who helped us find the correct device. He was half convinced that because we had opened the box - and who can open Apple boxes without tearing at least one corner? - they would not give us a refund. But they did! Result! 

In the meantime, I have been getting stressed about nonsense that goes on the world of the posh folk. Why, I ask you, does a retiring Prime Minister have to give out honours? Why does a Chancellor of the Exchequer need to get honours for doing his job? Especially if he has not done the job in any spectacularly good way? And why does his image consultant need to receive honours? And as for the Prime Minister's wife's hair stylist, well, I remain totally gobsmacked. Does this nonsense not devalue the whole idea giving honours for exceptional service? Or is Samantha Cameron's hair so difficult that her stylist worked above and beyond the call of duty? 

And then there is the story of someone at a zoo in Ireland, posting pictures of his son standing INSIDE the rhino enclosure! Why would you lift your child over the wall into an enclosure with large, potentially dangerous animals? Why was the wall low enough for him to do that? The world is full of nonsense! 

Back to technology. I read that Apple has replaced its hand gun emoji with a water pistol – reflecting growing despair in America and worldwide over gun crime. Personally, I don't use emojis but I am all in favour of something that tries to combat the increase in gun crime. 

Our grandson has a new iPhone. This is a small bone of contention as the child is only 11. His mother says he will need a phone when he starts secondary school in September. Except, of course, that the school doesn't like them to have phones in school. (The grumpy old fogey in me wonders how we ever managed when our children went to secondary school and had to let themselves into an empty house to wait until we got home from work. No mobile phones then!) I suspect that the true reason for his acquiring an iPhone is so that he can play Pokémon Go without pestering to borrow his mother's phone. 

Anyway, he is very proud of the fact that he does not have to put in a password or a pincode but just places his finger on the button. It recognises his fingerprint! This, together with voice recognition, is apparently where the future of phones, laptops, cash machines, card payments and all sorts of transactions is taking us. No more will we need to memorise passwords and Pins! 

Now, I suffer from chronic attacks of dermatitis, which plays havoc with my finger ends and, I suppose, with my fingerprints. Am I going to excluded from the new technology of the modern age? Am I to be condemned to old fogeydom for ever?

Back in Galicia.

Here we are, back in Vigo. We have had a hectic few days with all the family gathering for all sorts of occasions: lots of meals, walks in the rain, trips to the park, afternoon tea at a posh hotel in Manchester. Hence blog silence for the last few days. 

Here we are, back in Vigo after a silly journey. Our plane was delayed because it had a flat tyre when it landed at Liverpool. I assume they discovered it after landing. This was a minor problem that became major because they had to wait for a new tyre to arrive from Manchester!! You would think that they might manage to keep a supply of spares at the airports where the planes regularly land! 

We had a whole series of mixed messages about departure times. So, of course, once we had sat down to a bowl of soup, they announced imminent boarding. 

But having been rained on in Liverpool, we finally made it to Porto and the sunshine. 

On the plane we tried to swap seats with a young lady who had the aisle seat, offering her the window seat. Phil prefers the aisle seat if possible. So did that young lady! So it goes! I noticed that she was reading the latest Harry Potter offering. This is the screenplay for "Harry Potter and the Cursed Child, Part Two". Not bad reading for a Portuguese girl. But not really J.K. Rowling. It was written by two other people, based on an idea by the Harry Potter creator. 

Apparently "Harry Potter and the Cursed Child" is a pair of plays that see the boy wizard portrayed as a 37-year-old parent. Rowling said that the release of the plays and their accompanying script did not mark the release of a new series of stories. I know people who will be disappointed but personally I am left unmoved. 

Released at midnight on Saturday night, an event marked with parties at bookshops around the UK, the script is topping book charts. Who knew that parties were organised for such things? Pre-orders at Waterstones topped 100,000 copies, the book chain told the Guardian last week, and it was the most pre-ordered book of the year at Amazon.co.uk. In less than two days, reviews of the script on Amazon.co.uk already number almost 200, the majority of them positive. 

Wow! I am impressed! But still not tempted to read it! 

Having got back to Vigo, we stopped off at one of our regular wifi cafes for a beer before finally heading for home. Normal blog service might resume some time soon.

Getting away from (the nastiness of) the world!

Well, the nastiness of the world continues: shootings and suicide bombers and political parties tearing themselves other apart instead of solving the problems of the world. And so I escape into other thinking about other things. 

Reading the paper yesterday I came across a new term, well, new to me: off-grid parenting. This seems to involve rejecting accepted ideas of parenting and includes a range of ideas:- 

• prolonged breastfeeding (Which is fine by me up to a point but I don't think it should be exaggerated - toddlers who are running around and talking and riding little bicycles don't need to be breastfed any longer - and personally there came a time when I wanted my body back) 

• anti-vaccination (The problem there is that potentially fatal illnesses that we thought had been eradicated, such as whooping cough, suddenly re-emerge thanks to the parents who don't have children vaccinated) 

•  anti-medicine (I have mixed feelings about this. Antibiotics have been so over-prescribed that the human race has built up a resistance to many forms. My family knows that I resist taking pills unless I have to but sometimes you just have to take the medicine!)  

• rejecting the school system (Home schooling can be fine and, goodness knows, there is a lot wrong with the school system at the moment.) 

•  the whole family sleeping in one bed (Really? I have shared my bed with children at times and know what a bad night's sleep can result from it. Besides, children need their own space too.) 

• non-assisted home births (I had a home birth and I was very glad the midwife was there when complications set in. Babies are too important to be sacrificed to airy-fairy ideas. Be flexible, for goodness sake.) 

So far so (reasonably) good but then it gets a bit wackier:- 

• not using nappies (When was that ever a good idea?!) 

• keeping the placenta attached instead of cutting the cord (Apparently you wait until it drops off of its own accord. Noooo! altogether too weird and strange. Not to say messy!) 

This all came up in an article about a young couple who appeared on morning television and scandalised many people by being unfazed when their one year old peed on the studio carpet. Cool customers, obviously. Well, yes, they seem to be; what they really want is for people to donate £100,000 so that they can start a “self-sustaining” life in Costa Rica (the fund currently stands at £140). 

Such idealism and optimism! No further comment needed!

Le Tour - final stage!

In my little bubble, escaping from the rubbish stuff that is going on around the world, I switch in the TV to watch the coverage of the final stage of the Tour de France. And what do I find? The women's race, called La Course, which has been taking place since 2014 and which was heralded as another small victory for women's liberation. 

How sexist is the Tour anyway? Well, this morning there was an article about Adam Yates, winner of the Best Young Rider classification, a young man from Bury in Greater Manchester. He belongs to a club called Bury Clarion Club, formed at the start of the 20th century. Here's a little excerpt, regarding women on bikes: 
"One January day in 1901 seven fearless women saddled up, adjusted their flowing skirts and straw boaters and pedalled slowly through Bury's streets. They were greeted by local people, shouting "shame" and "hussies" as well as booing children, who ran alongside." 

So, considering that the Tour has been going since a time when ladies on bikes were regarded as rather shocking, I suppose it's fairly understandable that it has been a male preserve for so long. And while I can understand the women shouting for parity, personally I would not want to compete against those men. After all, Wimbledon has separate competitions for men and women. Women's football teams don't play against the men. You have to accept that there is a physical difference. So if I were a lady racing cyclist, I would be happy with a high profile race in Paris on the final day of the Tour de France. And even that is hard going. As I watch it early in the afternoon, there are huge crashes taking place on the Paris cobbles. Ouch! 

And Chloe Hosking wins for Team Wiggle High5. What an odd name! That's the team name, not the rider. It turns out to be an online company that sells high energy drinks, bars and food supplements. In true 21sr century style, Chloe Hosking, a 25 year old Australian, stood on the podium after receiving her medal and pulled out her phone to take a selfie with the girls who came second and third. In fact, she took two: one with the Arc de Triomphe in the background and then a quick turn around to have the crowds in the background. Modern times! 

Here's another little bit of sexism. For La Course, the main commentator was joined by a female commentator, a cycling expert, yes, but dressed n a posh frock and with her hair nicely loose around her shoulders. For the Tour proper, he was joined by a male commentator, another cycling expert, dressed in cycling gear. Not so modern times perhaps! 

But an emotional acceptance speech from Chris Froome ended the day, even with a little bit of French in there. 

And that's the Tour over with for another year.

Getting around!

Saturday involves running around, reading the paper, getting the shopping done and other such weekend stuff. Here's one result of my news reading:- 

"It's a great way to see a city. It's fun to ride a Segway anyway, and you see way more than you would on foot. If you get tired of walking or bored with sights, it's perfect." Thus spoke Massimo Ferrara, who works as a guide with an agency that organises Segway tours in Rome. 

He was talking about those peculiar scooter affairs that roll down hill, charging their battery so that they can tackle the next uphill section of route. Well, that's how someone explained it to me. 

They are very popular with lazy tourists, or perhaps people who just love something gimmicky. As for us, we are very snobby about our tourism and like to "walk the walk", as we call it, getting to know a place by walking around everywhere. There must be places with steps and other difficulties that Segways can't cope with. Feet can go anywhere! 

Anyway, Barcelona and Prague have banned the use of them because of complaints from residents and even from tourists. I wouldn't fancy getting in the way of one of them and having my toes crushed. 

 One of the problems is deciding where they can be ridden. Some places allow them on the pavement. As if there wasn't enough of a problem with bicycles.! Others have them use cycle paths. Germany requires a permit for pavement use. 

In the UK, they are classified as motor vehicles. As such they are not allowed in pavements. However, motor vehicles require a license, insurance, lights, brakes and registration plates. So they are not allowed on the road either. 

 If you own one, you can only use it on your private estate! 

So it goes.

What happens when the sun shines.

I have been in Manchester all day. Contrary to the predictions of the weathermen, who told us it would rain in the afternoon, the sun shone all day. In fact the sun has been shining almost all over the country for the last few days. 

Consequently some people have decided it is okay to sunbathe in their underwear in city centre parks. You know the situation: finish work early, go to the park, oops no swimsuit, strip off to your underwear! This has caused some controversy. Understandably some other people feel that this is unacceptable behaviour. I tend to be on the side of the objectors. 

One woman was apparently seen walking down the street in Birkenhead in her bra an knickers. Well, in this age of equality, if blokes can feel okay to walk down the street without their shirts when the sun comes out, then women should feel equally okay to walk around in a state of undress. Once again, I am on the side of the objectors. Even in some seaside places they insist on people being fully dressed on the streets and in bars and restaurants other than those actually on the beach. 

In countries where they expect to have sunshine in the summer months, people tend not to walk around half dressed in ordinary towns and cities. Is this a peculiarly British thing? When the local authorities have complained in Barcelona about people walking from their hotels to the beach in their swimwear and nothing else, indeed in one case totally naked, is it just the British who walk around that way? I wonder. 

Reports have also been appearing of incidents where people, not always teenagers, have got themselves into difficulties in rivers and lakes. An activity called "tomb-stoning", which involves jumping into a river from a fairly high bridge, has possibly caused the death of one teenager. It seems that they just jump in without knowing how deep the water is or what might be below the surface.   

And little George Windsor or Cambridge or whatever his name is has been photographed feeding the family dog an ice cream. As everything people see him do in photos appears to be copied by an adoring public (his baby blanket, outfits he has worn and so on have been sought out and sold out!!!), the RSPCA has seen fit to warn people that feeding ice cream to dogs is not on. Dairy products are dangerous to dogs! Some twitter users, overreacting as ever, have called for the three year old to be arrested for animal cruelty! 

It would seem that a bit of warm weather brings on a kind of madness.