Antony and … / … and Sebastian

The revelries are over for another January. Sant Antoni and Sant Sebastia tend to merge into one. There was a bonfire do outside the Bodega Balear in Puerto Alcúdia on Saturday night (till 6 in the morning), though the bonfires are more Antony than Sebastian.

The Palma celebrations for Sebastian were something of a benefit for ageing British rock musicians. Friday night was music night – the synthetic screeches of the violins of the Electric Light Orchestra and the nearest you are likely to get to “cred” British rock music in the form of Echo And The Bunnymen, even if it is 25 years too late. At least with the Bunnymen there was a degree of authenticity. Ian McCulloch for example. This ELO was a Part II, Lynne-less version. They though came late on the Sebastian scene after some confusion, well a fair bit it would seem, as to the headline act that had been set up – Earth Wind & Fire, or was it an Earth Wind & Fire tribute. Neither as it turned out.

But credit where it is due. Nine different locations around the city and nine different stages. A sort of mini-Glastonbury without the mud and for one night only: flamenco, hip hop, Mallorcan, rock, dance. It was all there. And on the Saturday was the correfoc, not just a fire-run but a fire display (as opposed to fireworks) that seems to have got rave reviews. The whole thing is quite an achievement. Why don’t they promote it more to a foreign market?


MOSQUITOES
Five in the morning. The last thing you need over a weekend of fiesta. Those are not the zeds of a snooze, those are the zeds of a mozzy on its approach run. There may not be all-year tourists, but there are all-year mosquitoes. The merest hint of sun and winter humidity, time for them to don their shorts and go out for dinner on the terrace – or in the bedroom.

What is it with mosquitoes? Not satisfied with being the summer’s bully-boys, they have to be winter yobs as well. Not for your mosquito the fair-weather, southern-Jessie effeteness of the bee; no, your mosquito is an all-weather and all-year well-hard delinquent ASBO case, bare-chested even as the temperature falls.

Someone once explained the life cycle of the mosquito to me – at length, at very great length. There is something about in-depth biological explanations that make me lose the will to live, so I’ve forgotten it. They are all too reminiscent of the dullest of school moments – all that stuff about amoebas and rhizomes, which I have also completely forgotten. (Do I mean rhizomes? Whatever. See, I wasn’t paying attention.) The mosquito, on the other hand, appears not to have any death wish; it just keeps on living and seeking out lunch.

Before someone decided that humans were secondary to fauna, a good spray job could get rid of them. There must be some other concoction that could be used to napalm them into oblivion. Given that quinine and lemon are supposed to deter mosquitoes, why not bombard Albufera with gin and tonic with a slice. If the smell doesn’t get them, they would die of alcohol poisoning – with Mallorcan spirit measures they would be bound to. Either that or attack them with Marmite. The stink couldn’t be any worse than the marsh gas; in fact it might be rather more agreeable. That’s it. Put up a load of bar tables in Albufera with a Gordon’s and mixer and bowls of Twiglets. Soon finish them off. Alternatively, a three-way fight to the death, with no winner, with the processionary caterpillar and the beetle that consumes palm trees and which is currently on a munching tour of Mallorca, appearing in Pollensa and dining out on all those unattended palms in second homes.

Five in the morning. Certainly couldn’t be bothered to check if there was a clear sky whilst searching for the nearest Scud missile with which to terminate the mosquito. Had there been, what sort of moon would it have been?

QUIZ
Yesterday – “Mustang Sally”. Today’s title – would have made for an altogether better line-up. Fill in the missing names. The other question today is in the last line above. Think Echo.

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