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JUNE
CAN ANTS READ?
This morning, keen to get down to some work on my new novel, I noticed my keyboard appeared to be moving. Assailed by the fear that this was the onset of some fatal disease, on closer inspection I discovered a battalion of ants soldiering through the keys and, it seemed, not in a random way. I can be a little fanciful so I dismissed this as nonsense, swept them onto the floor and continued. It was then that I saw two ants on my screen calmly walking back and forth through each sentence. I am now worried they are stealing my ideas for a novel of their own. The question is, if this is case, where would they have filed it and is it better than mine – but, more importantly, have they managed to crack the question of adverbs?
MUJERES DESESPERADAS
Lunch with the Nadal’s (that’s Manolo and Rosa, not Rafa and his mother) at The Real Club Náutico de Valencia is always something special and last Sunday was no exception. It is a curious fact that when Spanish men and women get together, it’s not long before ‘the great separation’ takes place; men at one end of the table, women at the other. At English yacht clubs the main topic of conversation at lunches and dinners is, well, sailing. And if you haven’t been out racing that day it’s quite usual for the person sitting next to you to cease all contact abruptly and turn to the person on their other side who, hopefully, has. Sad but true. I have no idea what the men were talking about but we women were into serious stuff. Now we all know my Spanish isn’t perfect and speaking a foreign language for several hours can be very tiring. One loses one’s concentration and sometimes one reaches the wrong conclusion. I’m a past master at this. I can join conversations and launch myself into zones no-one has ever been before. H is always muttering things like: ‘What are you on about? We’re having a conversation about the Minister for Health. Why are you talking about dog training?’ So, when Mari-Carmen asked me if I had a tattoo somewhere daring and avante-garde, followed by whether I had considered having my pubic hair made into an interesting design, I hesitated. Eight pairs of eyes looked at me expectantly and I felt I had somehow been transported to an episode of ‘Desperate Housewives’. I said ‘Did you ask what I think you just asked?’ The shrieks of laughter confirmed it. ‘In England’, I said po-faced, ‘we never talk about sex or any intimate matter, it’s considered bad form. Unless, of course, we’ve had too much to drink and we become incautious.’ At which point Pilar picked up the vodka bottle and poured a large measure into my lemon sorbet. Enough said.
WHAT I MEANT WAS ….
Did you know that ‘enjoy yourself’ in Spanish means something entirely different?
STUDENT CHRONICLES: quote of the week
Role plays are always interesting. Consider this scenario:
Student 1: You invite your friend to go on a blind date.
Student 2: You try to wriggle out of it.
Student 1: A friend of my boyfriend thinks you’re very pretty. Would you like to come to the cinema with us?
Student 2: What film is on?
Eh?
What does he look like? Have you got a photograph? How old is he? Does he have his own hair? Is he weird? Why can’t he get his own girlfriend? What’s wrong with him? ALL of these questions are relevant but ‘What FILM is on?’ I despair.
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BARBARA'S BOOK
If you are a regular reader of thisisvalencia.com you will probably look forward to reading Barbara O'Neill's excellent column about life as an ex-pat in (and out) of this fair city of ours. What you probably don't know, and I am about to tell you, is that Barbara has written a book, and jolly good it is too - it's called THE GIANT KILLERS and is currently on the Harper and Collins website Authonomy.com for all to read. The purpose of the site is to get your book read and voted on. The more votes, the higher the book is ranked and when it is ranked high enough it will be read by an Editor at Harper Collins with a view to publication.If, of course it is not snapped up by an eagle eyed agent or publisher in the meantime.
'When Elizabeth and Jack open the package they believe they are looking into a toy box. It is Jack who notices they are breathing.'
Barbara would love you to visit her page and have a read of this excellent novel, which she describes as a fantasy thriller. If you like it sign up to the site and put her book on your shelf and send her your comments....
To whet your appetite here are the cover notes:
It is the year 2150. Elizabeth Waldren, married to a man she has come to despise, is living in an old cottage on the isolated shores of Chichester harbour. Her husband, Stephen, is a geologist with a colonisation project on the planet GT4. Absent now for ten months, he has left her with his psychologically disturbed eight year-old son, Jack. On a routine survey Stephen risks entering the prohibited area and stumbles across an indigenous race, The Lhaitiri. Only twelve centimetres tall, he succeeds in capturing nine of them and, by a clever deception, transports them to Earth, keeping their existence from the project leader, Jonathan Tupperman. Angered when Elizabeth refuses to let him play with them, Jack resolves to punish her; but as he begins to understand the strength of her friendship with Ybron, their chief, he decides The Lhaitiri must die. As Elizabeth discovers that she is dealing with a life form far removed from that of Earth, she is determined to communicate. But when conversation is finally possible, so comes understanding and The Lhaitiri are faced with the true nature of the human race; with all its complexities and the society it has created for itself.
Go on go over to Authonomy.com by clicking the cover, above and read (VOTE TOO) Barbara Richmond O'Neill's THE GIANT KILLERS, I guaantee you'll be hooked from chapter one.
Gooru
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