Amazing. My PS computer seems finally to have died. I wonder if I can blame the cellphone company?
Shall take it to the repair shop whenever the local fiesta (San Antoni) ends; tonight it's the turn of the bonfires, which is quite good, since they deliver vast quantities of sand/earth to locations in the streets - usually outside popular bars that have BBQs at which regulars are invited to have a snack. On those mounds they build huge fires that would suit a witch; that would keep me in warmth for a year, now that I think about it. The trouble, of course, is that it delays the other, coincidental necessities of life such as the making/delivery of my bespoke fireguard, without which I'm unable to use the broken-but-repaired wood fire, which is ironic, as my neighbour has given me much of a tree which is already perfectly dry. In the interim, the electricity company is laughing all the way to the bank, but that laugh may turn to a scream as and when the € falls on its ass. Assuming, of course, that it keeps its booty in Euros. (Booty means something quite else in English English.)
I had a thought: what with all those refrigerated ships plying the seas, wouldn't it be an exciting business opportunity to contract with the Mafia and have a 'burning' of all the bodies via these island fires? Who'd ever know? Who'd ever see? Would make a change from pig farms. This needs work.
Oh well, at least the enforced PS hiatus will allow a sense of calm to return to my savage(ly?), beaten breast. Or hysteria.
Rob C