No, Granny has not jumped into the sea round Lanzarote and waved goodbye for good. But she was beset by sinus trouble last week and she has got Beloved Daughter staying now - neither of these things leave much time or energy for blogging. In the course of the sinus she succeeded in backing the truck into a parked car and getting a ticking-off from the police for not reporting it to them: result yet another 90 euro fine.... turns out even such small things have to be reported to the police here. (So much law to run around when it comes to small things, so much seemingly licensed evasion on large ones; just look at all those illegal houses/hotels/car parks that won't be pulled down.) Beloved says their truck insurance will go up for sure. He was very nice about it though. He is nice about things like that - and all too inclined to back into things himself.
Meantime the war of the dog fence continues; the canines are finding ever more ingenious methods of getting over or under it - the most ingenious by far turning out to be the Local Yokel, his intelligence not highly rated up till now. But given that the LY is descended from street dogs that was probably a mistake: street dogs have to be pretty canny to survive, a cannyness passed on in their genes no doubt, which is yet another tiresome example of the equally tiresome - and ruthless - notion of the survival of the fittest. Much thought will have to be put into the latest - also tiresome - round of the contest between man and beast. Granny will keep you posted.
Oh and the winds have got up to welcome Beloved Daughter. They would, wouldn't they. One problem with the winds now is their effect on television reception. Once upon a time, only rain could interfere with the satellite signal. But they've moved the satellites around a lot and now high winds - or not even very high winds - do still worse and can remove it for days, more or less. Mr Surfer /Tellyfixer has advised building a wall round the satellite dish, but that will have to wait till next week: Mr Handsome has taken the week off, and Granny does not want Beloved to risk his neck on the roof even if he was willing to; which he is not, much as he does miss his Channel4 News and Time Team.... (Not that she'd wish Mr Handsome's neck in danger either. But Mr H does have somewhat more sense about such things and is a good deal steadier on his feet, besides. You know how it is.)
Granny and BD went for a good walk today in sheltered ravines along with the Beautiful Wimp. Unfortunately Granny forgot to take the mobile that was supposed to summon Beloved to pick them up and her attempts to use the public telephone were unavailing as well as expensive; not having used such an instrument in years she had forgotten about not hanging up between calls so long as there was credit left. She and BD had to sit in a cafe for a long time - an equally expensive activity - before Beloved turned up; fortunately he'd put the lack of a call down to Granny being out of signal range. So no problem there, apart from the vanishing euros and the thoughts assailing her as she watched another aged parent and offspring pair, in this case a Spanish speaking Englishman with an extremely ancient, skinny, clearly demented, but very tanned, beach-clad and sun-hatted old mother, sitting at the next table. Some people are much nicer and more patient than Granny could ever be, she thought. She tried not to think she might be like that herself before too long - the aged mum that is. Oh dear. Oh dear.
As must be obvious, Granny is in a hurry. Beloved's cooking - and the washing-up incurred thereby - is due for her attention. Night Night.