Wednesday 3 July 2019
I started off in the old Jewish Cemetery across from the town.
I was interested in the tombs dug into the rock, this one distinctly person shaped.
It was Jewish tradition to bury their dead outside city walls.
The empty tombs among the sparse pine trees were serenaded by cicadas. I was the only person there; not surprising, it was scorchio! But I was there for you, dear reader and vicarious traveller.
I thought you’d like to see some more of Segovia.
Particularly the Alcázar, the prow of the town,
as it thrusts itself off the cliff,
as if to sail across the land.
It’s a very grand place inside,
but apart from being the royal palace (until they moved the household to Madrid),
it was also a state prison for two centuries, then the royal artillery school. Damaged by fire it has been refurbished to reflect its former glory.
If the Alcázar is the prow,
the cathedral is the sail, and the aqueduct is the anchor. (You’re right, it’s not original – it’s tourist information blurb!)
I am parked by the old bullring.
Yesterday I popped into a small contemporary art gallery showing, amongst other things, photos by Jorge Represa, who, it seems, has photographed everyone who is anyone for every magazine.
He was also showing other work, like this homeless New Yorker.
A pleasant half-hour.
Segovia is a stunner. Just an hour from Madrid.
Angry bit now. Politics and bad language warning, time to switch off.
I have never felt more ashamed to have GB on my number plate than after the puerile demonstration by those salary-trousering arsewipes who’ve lied their way into European Parliament. Cartoonist Steve Bell in the Guardian described it as a twenty-nine bum salute, I’d put it more strongly. Turning their backs was a childish gesture, but how far are they and their supporters from making other gestures. Disrespecting democratic institutions is the start. Scum.
Have they really sunk so low? Will any one of them do the smallest thing to improve the lives of the sad fucks who put them there? Not a chance. Will they tell their constituents how clean Europe is, how friendly and welcoming people are, how the smallest of places has good sports facilities which aren’t locked up and are well used, how communities take responsibility for their community, how facilities can be provided for all, like car park laundromats, motorhome aires, often free, and colourful and exciting children’s play areas, and book swap boxes, and on and on, because they’re not abused? Hardly.
Looking at the ten countries I’ve been travelling in, would they be able to point to anything ‘great’ Britain does better? No. Those days, if they ever existed, have long passed. I know there are problems in all countries, but almost everywhere I’ve been puts the UK to shame.
I try and remind myself the arsewipes don’t represent the majority, but they’re getting the coverage, and their message is getting traction.
I hope Brexit fails and those arsewipes suffer the ridicule and exposure they deserve as they get taken apart by the big girls and boys in the EU, before making their flimsy excuses and resigning like the UKIP shower before them. Also, I hope they all contract septic piles, so every taxpayer funded journey to Europe is excruciating.
In the meantime I shall continue to smile, use the local language where I can, be demonstrably grateful to those I meet for their help, and appreciative of the kindness and facilities offered by the host country. I’ll be a British ambassador in a small way in the hope the good Brit karma helps the EU keep a light on so we find our way back.
One closing question. When you saw this image,
did you think, “Donald Trump” as I did?
That’s how much the world has changed.