480: Destination unknown

 

Came across this during my walk on Friday and it set me thinking... Destination unknown

The final destination is unknown for all of us. Where will we be 'when the music stops'?? What country? The country of our birth or some foreign field?  Will we be in our own home, surrounded by family & friends, or in a hospital or care home? Will we still be 'compos mentis' or will we have 'lost the plot'? Nobody can know the answer to these questions as our life unfolds and draws to an inexorable close. And after that? Those of us lucky enough to have Faith can look forward to an after life in eternity. For unbelievers there is really nothing to look forward to. Just THE END. Конец фильма!

The walk was part of a recce. I wanted to explore (some of) the area between Hospitalitet de L'infant and Cambrils. Google maps suggested a 3-hour walk but by the time I'd walked from the railway station into town I knew I wouldn't have enough oomph left for another 3-hours. I did, however, walk from Hospitalitet into Miami Playa where I had a very nice lunch and caught a bus home. That's what recces are all about - finding out what can, and what can't, be achieved. Next time, perhaps tomorrow, I know I can catch a bus from Cambrils to Hospitalitet and then walk the 3 hours back. 

I'd heard of 'whiskey in a jar' but beer?

2 Russians appeared from nowhere. I surprised them when I said "Приятного аппетита"

479: The green-eyed monster

Jealousy is the green-eyed monster. Apparently first coined by William Shakespeare in Othello in 1604. It's not something that usually bothers me - I'm a happy-go-lucky kind of person who is generally quite happy with his lot in life.

BUT, and isn't there always a BUT, today I found myself in Tarragona and went for a wander around the harbour. Looking at the beautiful yachts that were moored there. It set me thinking about capitalism and socialism and where is the fairness in this world when some people can own enormous yachts like this and others are begging for scraps on the streets of every town and city in the world.

Socialism, and equality for everyone, is a fine ideal which, unfortunately, doesn't work very well.There will always be some people who work harder and some people who are inherently idle. If only we could differentiate between those who can't help themselves (and are therefore worthy of our help) and those who won't help themselves and rely on others to spoon-feed them. 

And I'm certainly not saying that all the owners of these yachts got them by virtue of sheer hard work. You can work hard all your life and save every penny you've ever earned and still not be in the super yacht league. They will have found a different way to climb the rungs in the ladder of life and have ended up nearer the top of the ladder than I have.

So yes, for a few moments, I was green with envy. But, thank goodness, I soon got over it, and counted my blessings: intrinsic happiness, good family and friends, a roof over my head, and good health. Money isn't everything. (Says everybody who doesn't have much of it.)   

And finally, Rest in Peace, Bamber Gascoigne. The genial host of University Challenge from 1962-1987 - died today aged 87

478: 6 different beds in 7 nights!

A lot, even for me. Tuesday – Golspie, Wednesday – Inverness, Thursday & Friday – Ramsey, Saturday – Dartford, Sunday – Gatwick, Monday – Salou. And RELAX.

It was all part of the grand plan to get back to Spain, and some winter sun. On the way I visited my sister and her boyfriend, and enjoyed coffee and cake in Welling with a cousin I hadn't seen for a couple of years. Ron knocked up a lovely dinner in his wok. Spicy chicken & prawns. Hazel seems to have (finally) landed on her feet as her boyfriend does (almost) all of the cooking.

On Sunday I met No.1 daughter in the Union Jack club in Waterloo. We had a great walk and talk along the South Bank, past the National Theatre, the Tate Modern, the Globe Theatre and the Golden Hind and then went for a wander around Borough Market. A lovely place for what is now called 'street food' and for spices and cheeses and all sorts of things. We had lunch in a Spanish restaurant on the edge of the market and a gimmick was for the waitress to come and mix up my 'huevos rotos'. Of course, Morag (aka Mo) took the opportunity to ask if I was now of an age to need all my food chopped up! Thanks Morag. Back to the UJC for dessert and then we went our separate ways, Mo back to Oxfordshire and me on to Gatwick. 'Adventures' for both of us: she missed the train to Didcot that she wanted and I took a train to Clapham Junction to be told I would be better going back to Waterloo and travelling via London Bridge. Oh well, we both got where we needed to be, albeit a little later than planned.

UJC is a great place to meet because there is every chance of meeting people you served with. And so it transpired on this occasion. It was good to see Rob, whom I hadn't seen for more than 15 years. The last time (and the first time) we served together was on a very short Russian language refresher course in Moscow. Rob reminded me that we stayed in the Marco Polo hotel. Those were the days, when the MOD paid for the trips. When I was paying for my own accommodation I would stay in Izmailovskiy where the complex of hotels, built for the Olympics in 1980, was known locally as АБВГДка. I managed to politely decline the 'special offers' made to me in the late evening phone calls.  

A couple of pictures from my day in London, including the 'huevos rotos' (literally broken eggs).

 Happy Chinese New Year (year of the tiger).