Dancing Dog
I actually met this dog on the beach by the campsite yesterday. His owners (German) told me that he is a "Potenco" and the fastest racing/hunting dog of Spanish roots. This is quite incredible because it must be the only fast thing remaining in Spain except for the car drivers.
He looked a lot like my avatar but without spots.
Today, I picked up my bike from the bike shop because I couldn't fit on the thingy that I was given at Christmas. It's for measuring how fast, how long and how many kilometers you cycle. I spent an inordinate amount of time staring at this thingy on the handlbars as I whizzed along (top speed 19 kms, lowest speed 4kms. The round trip was 11 kilometers so I can tell the heart attack victim when I see him jogging that his estimate of village, along the beach, village is out by 4 kms. I am a nit picker. I love gadgets.
Anyway, today I met an interesting character at the campsite who is from Edinburgh and has a Danish wife. We had a short discussion about Edinburgh College of Art and decided the staff are probably the same ones as in the seventies. I wonder if they are still wearing the stinking, shaggy coats that everyone brought back from Afghanistan. The corridors used to reek of uncured leather.
The English contingent at the campsite have all huddled their enormous vans into one corner of the site throwing no doubt as to where to find the English quarter. I was relieved to see the man from Edinburgh hadn't been pressed to join them. They seem to spend a great deal of time walking around in small groups with their hands on their hips. Maybe I should do a book about the campsite? Maybe I should mention "Roz Chast" so when someone Googles her name they come here...but they might not think that funny.
He looked a lot like my avatar but without spots.
Today, I picked up my bike from the bike shop because I couldn't fit on the thingy that I was given at Christmas. It's for measuring how fast, how long and how many kilometers you cycle. I spent an inordinate amount of time staring at this thingy on the handlbars as I whizzed along (top speed 19 kms, lowest speed 4kms. The round trip was 11 kilometers so I can tell the heart attack victim when I see him jogging that his estimate of village, along the beach, village is out by 4 kms. I am a nit picker. I love gadgets.
Anyway, today I met an interesting character at the campsite who is from Edinburgh and has a Danish wife. We had a short discussion about Edinburgh College of Art and decided the staff are probably the same ones as in the seventies. I wonder if they are still wearing the stinking, shaggy coats that everyone brought back from Afghanistan. The corridors used to reek of uncured leather.
The English contingent at the campsite have all huddled their enormous vans into one corner of the site throwing no doubt as to where to find the English quarter. I was relieved to see the man from Edinburgh hadn't been pressed to join them. They seem to spend a great deal of time walking around in small groups with their hands on their hips. Maybe I should do a book about the campsite? Maybe I should mention "Roz Chast" so when someone Googles her name they come here...but they might not think that funny.
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