There are not many things in this life that I am afraid of anymore, I suppose because at my age there is not too much that anyone can do to me. For instance, I cannot be fired from a job as I have been retired for some time now. Nor can I be made to feel badly because I am not invited to large parties full of influential people whose influence I am not interested in.
I goggled like Hannibal must have goggled when told that another precious pachyderm had just blown a tire and sailed off the frozen alpine path into the deep valley below. My favourite barman and waiter, Rodgers, had just informed me there would not be a butter tart in sight this lunchtime. The room swam before me.
I really don’t know what to make of some people these days, I mean as to how rude they can be. There is a member here at the club who appears to make it his business to upset other mems whenever he can.
Falls and Banking:
I was coming out of the Santander bank (a Spanish bank) just up from one of my favourite restaurants, El Barracuda, when I fell into the road and scraped my leg from knee to ankle. I was bleeding like a stuck pig and my heart sank that I was in a part of town that was not close to a hospital. This brings up two subjects, walking and banking, neither of which I am proficient at.
First let us talk about walking in this favourite city of mine. If you live anywhere but the Malecon or a main road, you quickly learn to look 10 feet in front of you to see what is coming. I don’t mean that you are checking out the people coming towards you but rather the street itself. The cement and cobblestones are treacherous and you had better watch where you are walking.
I gulp when I say this, but my car is gone from my life. Yes, the old two-seater is no longer in the garage, which now looks like a toothless smile to me. I am not sure what I shall do about it, but I was becoming a danger to myself and, more importantly, to others. I couldn’t take the chance of hurting someone just because of my pride, don’t you see?
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