Bugs

Granny has discovered a disadvantage about living with a teacher - actually it's pretty much the same disadvantage as you discover being a grandmother; once again you are exposured to kiddy bugs. (Bugs in every sense; she even picked up nits from a grandchild once; the shame of it. Though that wasn't so bad as the fate of George Sand - friend of Chopin, Flaubert etc; aged 69 she got whooping-cough from one of hers. She died not long after.) This particular kiddy bug, picked up by Beloved from his pupils and passed on to her is not such a bad one. It hasn't laid her out entirely. It's being no worse, though, meant she had no excuse, once the paracetemol was stuffed down, not to go on her weekly shop to the other side of the island; to the Tienda Verde where she gets organic vegetables etc - (after lunch on a Tuesday when the produce boat has come in from the bigger island is a good time to go; as the Germans who shop there also realise- best to arrive before they clear the decks; they are such a very thorough people.) And from there to the next town to the north, where she can buy meat guaranteed not to have been reared in little boxes.

But, did she say already?...that just now the politicians, local and Canarian are all busy buying votes and doing up roads? She drives up her road to the t-junction. Can't go left. Road closed. Can't go straight on - the bulldozers are out finishing off one dirt road, which they have widened, walled and in which they are putting in pavements. Granny can't think why; there are few houses as yet and no signs of any more pending. Perhaps the pavements are the human equivalent of putting up nesting-boxes to encourage birds. Odd that. 'Suburbanisation,' Beloved says. True. Small town councils always do seem to think that even rural people prefer to imagine they live in a suburb; street lights and all. Granny has encountered the same thing in rural parts of England.

Granny turns right, right again and prepares to turn left up handy little shortcut through the fields only used by locals till recently when they shut an alternative route for, guess what, 'road improvements.' Problem. Large no entry sign has suddenly appeared her end of handy short cut. At this point her language is inappropriate for one supposed to have retired to lavender, old lace and general gentility. She looks right; she looks left; no sign of friendly local police force, busy earning its Christmas bonuses just now and hot on everything. She goes boldly up the one way street, no matter what- alternative is to double the journey time going round three sides of a square. It's lunchtime anyway; on this island the siesta hasn't yet gone the way of the Madrid businessman's siesta, noone here feels obliged to work like Americans; between 1- 5pm, everything grinds to a halt; she feels safe enough. And no, she doesn't meet anyone much and the vehicles that do head towards her look to her as if they belonged to locals whom she imagines would have done exactly the same: as usual on this road, she or they squeeze to the side obligingly to allow the other past. In general, where she lives, you can, often, ignore "road closed" signs, if you know the territory. Short of meeting a bulldozer digging the road up, which does impede progress somewhat, you wave merrily, mouth 'Soy residente - mi casa..' etc and sail through. There are no houses on handy shortcut, so 'mi casa' wouldn't have got her very far, this time. But never mind.

She came back another way. Via the big roundabout at the edge of the town, the one with the pending Christmas decoration. Clearly the complaint about the culturally appropriate has been taken to heart. Where Father Christmas failed to gladden hearts last year now stand a camel and a man in local dress, complete with black hat. It's a very little camel - the man is right out of proportion. Is that saying something do you think? And why didn't they put one of the kings on top? Or throw in a palm tree? Man and camel, both, are wreathed in wires and junction boxes, clearly some bits are going to flash mightily. Which bits, Granny wonders? Looking at the figures, she has an idea or two herself, all as inappropriate to her aged status as her language earlier. Propriety is sure to reign, alas. Pity.

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PS. And by the way, in case you're interested, bloggers all, there's a delicious row going on about bloggers' book reviews as opposed to pro ones. You can read about it here.

PSS. Also by the way, new photo which has appeared at top of blog, next to the seascape is the view from her window. The one she's looks out at as she writes when it isn't dark as now. As promised MG, if you're out there. Take note.