My wife is not a great football lover, but she is a Geordie. It took only a few minutes of a radio interview with Newcastle United’s new ‘Director of Football’, Mr Joe Kinnear, in which he poured scorn on the club’s fans, to have her yelling at him to ‘go back to Tottenham’.
For those who would like to hear all fifteen minutes of Joe’s ‘suicide tape’, here’s a link.
Something momentous happens in L’Escala in mid-June; overnight it becomes very easy to find a space in the town’s car parks. Why? Because that’s the time of year when the parking meters go up and charges come into effect for the summer. It’s also the time when the locals start to leave their cars at home and walk to work, or to the beaches.
A Catalan and his money are not easily parted.
Back in Spain, courtesy of Lufthansa via Frankfurt, the first time I have ever set foot on German soil.
A very slick modern airport, but with the most expensive shops I’ve ever seen.
Right now, I should be back in Spain. I’m not. Instead I’ve spent the day on an expensive return trip to Newcastle Airport, where I sat for three hours, until Ryanair finally decided they were going to cancel my flight, something they could and probably should have done 24 hours earlier.
The blame for this fiasco hangs round the neck of French air traffic controllers. It is not easy to discern at these people thought they would achieve by inconveniencing air travellers across Europe, destroying the holidays of many families. I saw kids in tears this afternoon. Whatever their grievance is they’ll have no sympathy from me or any other of their victims. For my part, I hope the jackboot of authority comes slamming down on their necks, good and hard.
I am as solid a monarchist as there is, but I find myself asking how the hell Camilla, Duchess of Rothesay, is in any way an appropriate choice as Chancellor of Aberdeen University. Is it a stunt?
I’m sure she’s a perfectly nice lady, but she doesn’t exactly bring gravitas to the ancient office.