Climax

I’m out on my trusted balcony and someone downstairs is trying his mightiest to wriggle his car into a micro mini spot. The final bars of ‘Nessun Dorma’ come floating out of his open window and I have goosebumps as I watch –that tune gets me every time…

Then another car comes screeching down the road, blasting ‘Volare’ and singing along at full volume. Talk about an anti climax…

Kamikaze Convention

It’s dusk and giant flocks of birds –my knowledge of fauna’s not the best, as you know, so if you’re hoping to find out exactly what kind of birds, I can’t help you– keep swooping down into the mini forest across the road. Out for a night time stroll and some conversation like the rest of the Spanish population. The way in which they’re swooping, though, is what’s making me write this down. They make like they’re circumnavigating the forest, then suddenly change direction and dive straight down into the trees like a bunch of bungee jumpers minus the rope. And afterwards, they sit around chatting up a storm. I can just imagine: did you see that dive, mate? Sheer brilliance, I tell you…