Sex is good for injuries

What a cracking good match. If you were lucky enough to watch Manchester United vs Barcelona last night you had a real treat (but surely if they had seen it they would know that - Ed). MU had to win to progress to the final of the Champions League and what a match it was. It was end to end stuff with the majority of the pressure from Barcelona. Fantastic.
The other semi-final, between Chelsea and Liverpool, will be played tonight and my mouth is watering at the prospect.

Staying on a football theme, this article about Ronaldo getting caught out with transvestite hookers was funny. What really made me laugh was his explanation that it was all down to psychological problems linked to his knee injury. Yeah, and my back hurts, but I doubt if Jan would see it that way.

Leave well enough alone

See what happens when you start messing about with genetics!

Super fit?

That's it. As if to confirm what people already know, I put shorts on for the first time today, became an official expat (it would need to be 50C before a local thought about shorts) and confirmed the arrival of summer. It was not a pretty sight and sent Jan into fits of laughter! Despite Jan's ridicule and having been inundated with requests for a photo, I include one above.

Shortly after that 'the boys' turned up out of the blue for tennis. I'd forgottten that we'd discussed it, but I was secretly pleased because it meant that it delayed some of the jobs that I'd planned to do. We hadn't actually played for about 5 months so it was a bit of a shock to the system, further compounded by the fact that one bod didn't show so we had to play two on one. Still, it was very good exercise and fits in perfectly with the new lighter, perfectly formed and healthier me. For the first time in months I got a sweat on (the last time was when you thought about getting out of bed! - Ed).

Padre Pio

Knowing the area quite well because it is only 30 minutes from Foggia, where my mother comes from, and in particular the veneration given by the locals to Padre Pio (or Saint Pio to give him his more recent name) I have a problem with them digging him up and then putting his body on display. If I understand correctly, what you can see is a mask and not his actual face. You might as well be looking at a wax effigy. This is nothing other than gruesome. What's the point?
The last time we were there, in San Giovanni Rotondo, I couldn't wait to get out of the place. I drove my mum there because she wanted to make a pilgrimage, fair enough, but when I saw the hundreds of stalls selling cheap, tawdry, tourist tat, it made me feel very, very angry. (Sort of Jesus in the temple? - Ed)

The visit however was not without a very spooky side. By way of background, I had a Catholic upbringing, was taught by Jesuits, but I am not at all religious. I also never stop to pick up hitch-hikers. Leaving San Giovanni, we were turning a corner to drive down the mountain side when I saw a grey haired old lady wearing typical black mourning dress, grey crinkly stockings and struggling to carry two large bags containing water bottles, with additional bottles under her arms. I would have struggled with it, never mind her. She wasn't asking for a lift but she obviously needed help. In the blink of an eye I asked Jan if we should stop and before she had time to answer I pulled over and asked the lady if she needed a hand.

She climbed in the back and sat silently whilst I attempted to put her at ease. I chatted to her in my less than perfect Italian and by way of explanation told her why we were there and why we spoke imperfect Italian.

She responded by saying that she lived at the foot of the hill, that her well had run dry and that she needed to get some water for cooking and cleaning. I felt sorry for her and inside was glad that I could help. She also said that she had visited England once and how much she liked it. I thought that it was a strange comment because she looked so impoverished and you would never have guessed that she would have travelled abroad.

In order to keep the conversation going I asked where in England she visited and she replied that she worked for a short time in the north of the country. I asked where and she said Harrogate, my home town. Laughing at the coincidence I asked where she worked and she replied in the maternity ward, at the general hospital. I asked when and she replied between March and April 1976.

I have never been so spooked in all my life. The hair, quite literally, stood up on the back of my neck.

My son James was born on 3rd April 1976 at Harrogate General Hospital.

She was there at that time and in some way she would have contributed to his birth. By some massive twist of fate I was able to say thank you.

Proud grandparents 2

For the second time this evening, we are a grandparent again! At 22.30 Paula gave birth to Kate, Ben and Paula's first child, and our third grandchild. Good effort guys.

Proud grandparents 1

That was interesting. A week ago we met a Dutch couple, who were thinking about moving to this area, so we invited them for aperitifs and to meet our Dutch neighbours Hans and Janni. I've never quite figured out the whole aperos thing. You invite guests for 'drinks' and 'nibbles' and inevitably the time extends over into the dinner period so you end up having to feed them something quite substantial or see them go home hungry. Dieting the Jan and Alex way! As Jan spent quite a few hours preparing the vast array of nibbles, why not just invite them for lunch, dinner or whatever?
Anyway, Hans mentioned that he had seen Max's 'child' recently. If you remember, back in November, I caught Max in flagrante delicto, cheating on Minnie with the village slapper and we have often thought about any offspring. Well, if it's true, we are now proud grandparents.

The loss of a friend

I don't normally post soft, sentimental, mushy pieces about losing friends, but this is a touching story about life, death and friendship, and one that really touched me.

A potent brew

With one short sharp thrust, summer has hit with a vengeance. The daytime temperature hit 25C today so I uncovered the pool. Bryan had previously worried me with stories about several pools that he had recently seen where the water had turned dark green but when we uncovered ours it was still in good order. I'd been keeping an eye on the water temperature even though the pool was covered because as everybody knows, algae doesn't grow below 12C. Ours had got to 14C so I suspect that we opened it up just in time. Now the fun hard work begins, because even though it has a cover, which we installed as a safety measure, dirt will still pass through into the pool because of the small mesh in the cover which prevents water accumulating.

I hope you're paying attention because I'm not going to say this again!

As I've got older, wiser but more to the point lazier, I worry less about maintaining healthy, balanced water and make up a chemical cocktail that kills all known germs and some that haven't been discovered yet. So much so that I recommend swimming in a full deep sea divers outfit as long as you understand that my 'special brew' will take the first layer of paint off any protective clothing.

Enjoy your swim!

How big is yours?

When Jan said to me that 'small can be better', is this what she meant?

Nice people

The other day, at his usual (cocktail) hour, Alain, the village artist, popped round to ask a favour. Could I take a photo, for his archive, of a picture that he had just sold?
Last night was the visit to his studio (above), to sink a couple of bottles, and to take the pictures. Alain and Christianne aren't wealthy, but they are without doubt the most hospitable and generous of all the villagers, and we are proud and pleased to call them friends. Whilst it can be a bit daunting (because I know that I'll regret the drink later) I really enjoy visiting them. Throughout the visit you see a procession of nice people, some sober and some not. (You fall into the not category - Ed!) Tonight we met sober Jerome, who was missing his top four front teeth, and who was paying a friendly visit because he was popping into the village fruit and veg supplier nearby. A delightful and interesting man.
Conscious of the fact that Jan's eldest Ben is about to become a father for the first time and I suppose conscious of the fact that, against my better judgement, I bring him cheap cigarettes from La Jonquera whenever we go to Barcelona, he gave us a signed print of a recent painting as a present for the happy couple. Isn't that kind?

Max

This morning we left Minnie at home and took Max for his annual vaccinations and check up. A sort of quality time excursion with our eldest. He was very, very good, treated the vet with lots of affection and made us proud of him. She even suggested that with his looks and temperament we should think of breeding from him. I noticed that she didn't suggest that to me. Still, I've got broad shoulders. (It's your broad stomach that's the problem! - Ed)
As Jan said when we got home, 'it's like going to a parents' evening and hearing lots of wonderful things about your child.' Bless!

Chateau de Saint-Privat

Yesterday, along with thirty or so other brave (and waterproof) souls we attended a private viewing of Chateau de Saint-Privat near the Pont du Gard. It's not a very well publicised place and we didn't even know that it existed. The weather didn't put you in a very good mood. It was cold and wet and I didn't really expect to have to walk around the gardens. However, what was remarkable was its situation and access. To get to it you had to drive right under the Pont du Gard, which is closed to all traffic with the exception of visitors to this château, and follow the river beyond for about 2 kilometres.
Its history goes back to Roman times with the existing structure being started in the 8th century. So pretty old then! In order to avoid your eyes glazing over, I won't pretend that I know any more (so you can stop reading from a crib sheet - Ed) and suffice to say that if you want to visit a crumbling, part occupied, private piece of French history, with lots of historical significance then this is the place for you. In fact I'd say get there quick because it won't be long before a developer with about 20 million to spend gets in there and turns it all into a very posh hotel.

Hmnnnnnn

I don't normally 'do' political jokes, mainly because I empathise with anybody trying to run a country. At best you are only going to please half the population but more importantly I don't want to turn this blog into political propoganda.

It's like having the England football manager's job. Who would want the job when you have 60 million people, who all have an opinion and who all know better than you do, breathing down your neck?

This joke from CC did however make me snigger.

An Israeli doctor said, 'Medicine in my country is so advanced, we can take a kidney out of one person, put it in another, and have him looking for work in six weeks.'

A German doctor said, 'That's nothing! In Germany , we can take a lung out of one person, put it in another, and have him looking for work in four weeks.'

A Russian doctor said, 'In my country medicine is so advanced, we can take half a heart from one person, put it in another, and have them both looking for work in two weeks.'

The English doctor, not to be outdone, said 'Hah!. But we can take an arsehole out of Scotland , put him in 10 Downing Street and have most of the UK looking for work within twenty-four hours!

When or when not to guess

I've never been afraid of instruction manuals or asking for directions. It's probably my female side manifesting itself, but there you go.

When we first met, Jan commented that she had never before been out with a man who would stop and ask for directions. In normal circumstances I would have made a smart ass reply but it was still early days in our relationship so, unusually, I let it go. My logic is, 'if you don't know, find out.' Don't sit there guessing.

It reminds me of an incident in a previous life when I would visit branches throughout the UK and was usually driven by the local AVP or Supervisor. This particular time I was in unfamiliar territory and we were driving from one town to the next. Time was tight, it was late in the day and I fancied a drink. My sense of direction told me that we were driving in the wrong direction which wasn't going to address my urgent needs. I asked the so called intelligent man who was driving and whose patch it was if I could look at his map.

'What map?' he said.

'The bloody map you should have in your car if you haven't got a clue about where you're going,' I screamed in his ear.

We stopped at the next garage and bought one.

Anyway, we were at a friend's holiday home the other day and we had to ask the local chauffagist to come and show us how to get this central heating system working properly. It was a big, complicated oil fired system and we only had half the instructions. It was apparent that he was guessing as he twiddled with all the knobs and buttons. He didn't look once at the instructions that I waved in front of his nose, and in the end I downloaded a complete set of instructions off the internet and did the job myself.

Don't get me wrong, even with instructions it can be difficult. Jan bought a Black and Decker Dustbuster the other day and because it was raining and she was bored she read the instructions. You'd have thought that with their vast experience of selling a myriad of products B&D would have learnt something by now.

I quote:

"Identifying Your Product

The model design can be determined from the suffix codes used in the catalogue number. The following catalogue numbers are described in this manual: NV19XXY/NV24XXY/NV36XXY/NV48XXY/NV60XXY

The suffix code XX corresponds to the following designs:

00/99: stick handle, no accessories supplied

03: loop handle, supplied with crevice tool and brush tool

The suffix code Y is used to identify the range of colour options. The suffix code Y represented by the letter N is used with NiMH battery."

We decided that we didn't really want to identify our product and would guess instead! It was however a nice sunny day.