Keep This Fire Burning

I park near to where the Bulldog billboard has been bent and twisted by the winds. I hadn't come to do so, but I take a bit of a detour down to the old-town Eroski so that I can look at the German supermarket that has not long opened. Together with the Müller store, it forms a little Germany. Maybe Lidl should try acquiring the Eroski. I go into the mall - if you can call somewhere with three stores a mall - and I ignore the chap at the entrance. He doesn't deserve it. Who does? Well, I don't completely ignore him; just mutter "no". He has said to me: "perdone, señor". It's the second time in a few days. There was someone outside the Eroski near to Playa de Muro. Not the local colour who is often there. Someone else. "Perdone." Is this how it is? The other day I saw this chap by the karting at the Magic roundabout. I'd presumed he was waiting to be picked up. He had several bags tied up and mounted on a shopping-trolley. He obviously wasn't picked up, or he missed his ride. I saw him again yesterday - twice in fact. The same pile of bags, the same trolley; five maybe six quite large bags. Is that all his life resting on a borrowed Eroski trolley as he wheels himself and what he's trying hard to keep hold of around Puerto Alcúdia?

And it's bitterly cold. My hands are freezing. I think of the man with the trolley, of the guy saying "perdone", and walk the quiet and sad streets of January Alcúdia, noting the places for rent or sale, the places that are closed and empty. I recognise someone from one of these closed places. He passes me in Constitution Square. "Uep?" I ask. He stutters some response and walks on. So do I, but think that maybe I should chat to him. When I turn, he's disappeared or he has melded into a vagueness of dark winter coats and bobble hats pulled hard down over the forehead. Somehow, all seems dark though it is still very much light; 4.30 or so. The green cross of the chemists is neon-conspicuousness flashing against the indifference of the late afternoon sun.

Maybe you imagine it, but you think to yourself - didn't there used to be so-and-so here? Such a shop, such a bar? And then there's a surprise because there is something that definitely didn't used to be there. A new small hotel. Can Pere. Where did that come from? And you realise that it's already two, three months since you last trod these streets, and that you are out because - for you, well, for me - it's a new beginning, a new round of doing what I do. And despite the gloom and the sadness, there is always something new, but I still manage to think about the trolley man and the pathetic "perdone" and how damn cold it is. They could do with keeping the fires going. I kick at some earth of one of the Sant Antoni or Sebastià fire mounds and some charred wood slumps into the pit that the kick makes, joined by a sweet packet that has been discarded, as though the fire mound is just any old rubbish tip. And there is a bonfire that has been built but not been used. Maybe there's some other event. Or maybe, because it was a tall fire, they decided it was too risky with the winds. Last thing they'd want is to set fire to the town hall. Not that it would be a bad idea. Keep everyone warm: the beggars and the homeless certainly.


QUIZ
Yesterday's title - Ultravox (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VDspWsK_-vQ). Today's title - single from a leading British female R&B/soul singer; the song was actually first done by a Swedish R&B act.

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