Man Not in Álora Sparks International Security Alert.
I must just explain that 'it's chucking it down' means 'it's raining' in case any of my readers from non English speaking countries are trying to use 'Google Translate' to read this humble but still popular organ. 'Tirando hacia abajo' (Spanish) just means 'throwing downwards'. In Russian it's 'Зажатия его вниз' and it's anybody's guess what that translates as.
The thing is, I like to check up now and again if anyone is looking at this stuff and I'm able see the number of 'page views' and where they come from by clicking on 'audience'. The number is usually about 700 a month (you´ll have to take my word for it) and,apart from a few loyal readers in the Turks and Caicos Islands and Ireland (Thanks, Graham and Mary and Happy New Year) my 'audience' lives mainly in the UK, Spain, and the United States of Trumpery - except for last month when there were 2423 pageviews, mostly from Russia. What's going on? (Что происходит один?)
It's making me a bit nervous, I have to say. I do hope I haven't unsuspectingly helped Donald Trump to become The President of the United States, or worse (if that's possible).
Is there an algorithm on a computer somewhere in Moscow or Washington that I've triggered with a casual and innocently uttered 'key word'?
I do tend to go on about 'pies' a lot (spies?). Now I'm only digging myself in deeper if they're watching me. Mrs. Sánchez and I gave up answering the door months ago, after the Brexit referendum. We don't answer the phone unless we're expecting a call and I've trained Tommy to bite anyone with snow on his boots.
Of course, Christmas is far from over in Álora. Judging from the Ayuntamiento
(town hall) website they've just about squeezed all they can from the Belenes (see last post) and it's all eyes down now for the big procession on the night of 5th. January (Reyes Magos) when local councillors dressed up as exotic wise men take to the streets on lorries dressed up as floats to hurl hard, harmful handfuls of Haribo boiled sweets at the heads of any unwise man, woman or child foolhardy enough to open his/her front door and risk having one or more of his/her eyes put out or spectacles shattered by an elected representative.
Survivors will get their Christmas presents the following morning.
In England and even, `perhaps, in Wales and Scotland, January 5th. is Twelfth NIght which is the twelfth night after Christmas and, coincidentally, the title of a play by The Bard of Avon who used to live just down the A34 from us in Stratford-upon- Avon and called himself William Shakespeare.
I can really recommend the play if you get a chance to see it. It would make A GREAT PANTO. It's packed with mistaken identities, sex and cross dressing. (Oh yes it is!). One of the characters even has to dress up in yellow stockings and crossed garters and act haughtily. (Oh yes he does!). There's something in it for all the family, especially my cousin Brian who like to wear dresses, calls himself Theresa and gets seasonal work as a 'pantomime dame'
So far I estimate that I have already triggered numerous algorithms in various countries and expect a knock at the door any minute.
Twelfth Night is also the day we have to take down all our Christmas decorations or we'll have bad luck. (It didn't do much good last year did it? We did as we were told and look what happened!)
It's also the day that my true love brought to me 12 Drummers Drumming. They arrived a few days early this year and are currently beating out a tattoo inside my head after 'seeing the new year in'.
I always thought that The Twelve Days of Christmas was a jolly song, full of nonsense, but I've just found out that it has hidden religious meanings so it's not so jolly after all. That's spoilt it for me.
I was hoping for Seven Swans a-Swimming tonight but all I can expect is 'the seven sacraments'. Looking on the bright side, it's the twelve apostles on Thursday. They're always good company and they're bound to be starving after the long journey so we should be able to shift all the left over spiced beef, mince pies, boiled ham, coleslaw, potato salad, cheese and pork pie that didn't get eaten on Boxing Day (well, perhaps not the ham and the pork pie.).
Speaking of cheese, we brought back some cheeses from Spain for Christmas. The Álora Manchego was fine but the other two didn't travel too well. The one from the Picos de Europa developed a little mould which was spotted by our very observant daughter. I had to chuck it away in the end, but, in my opinion, it only needed a little 'trimming'.
Before 'trimming'
After 'trimming'
Seemed a waste to me. The other blue cheese, Cabrales, survived the journey quite well too, but can best be described as 'challenging'.
I like a strong cheese but this chap would blow your socks off. It's got me beaten. You can probably smell it from there.
I'm willing to bet it will even make the 12 apostles swear on Thursday.. I'm going to stick to pies from now on. Oops! there I go again.
Sorry, I've got to go now, there's someone at the door.......
Feliz Año Nuevo
Juanito Sánchez January 1st. 2017
