Summer Rain

Following the glad tidings of the announcement of work moving towards completion at the commercial port in Puerto Alcúdia, come the less glad tidings. Employees say that there is a lack of security provision - only one guard for the night times who has to patrol on foot despite there being a vehicle which, apparently, is not being used.

If indeed this is the situation, it does perhaps reinforce the point from yesterday - that these grand schemes are paid out for at grand cost but are then not exploited fully (if indeed they ever could have been) and simply not resourced adequately. Too often one has the impression of projects being undertaken, completed and then someone asking, "right, well now what do we do?"


Rain, come on, rain
Rain finally fell yesterday. Chucked it down in Puerto Pollensa at lunchtime. It was the first appreciable rainfall for a couple of months; it was badly needed but shortlived. The curious thing was that, though the skies glowered elsewhere, the clouds seemed only to burst over Pollensa. The bone-dry earth of Alcúdia, that which partly contributed to the fire on the Puig Sant Martí earlier in the week, remains bone dry.

But when it does rain, tourists are thrown into disarray. There is little alternative to the sun and its trappings, i.e. the beach and the pool. It might be a time when the bars and restaurants will be rubbing their hands with glee at the anticipation of the tourist diaspora wandering aimlessly under clouds and opting for a beer or several. In the past this would have happened. Now, even less-than-glorious weather fails to encourage tourists to turn the contents of their pockets out in return for a few cold drinks. And this despite the cricket. I can think of few better ways of idling away several hours than watching The Ashes, but unfortunately bars are geared more for the short bursts of sporting activity like football than the all-day grind of a test match. There should be bars with sofas or perhaps corporate hospitality boxes.


The principal principle
A few days ago I had cause to mention ESRA (28 June: Nothing Lasts Forever). I happened to see a copy of the annual handbook - not that I am the proud owner of one; it so happened to be sitting on a table in an office. This was put together with the help of dosh from Simon Cowell, for reasons I am not entirely clear as to, but be that as it may. But it is good to see that the X Factor-meister has dug into his pockets to support a publication that starts off with something as priceless as its explanation that the handbook is the "principle publication" of the association. I suppose that a "d" might have been missed, in that it is a "principled publication", but I suspect not. ESRA is the English Speaking Residents' Association. The principle is the wrong one; it should have been the other one - principal, meaning, in this context, main. There again, it is a speaking association, not a writing one. At least they didn't get their abbreviation arse about face.


False alarms?
A footnote to the Bellevue fires story of a while back. I am told that the alarms did go off. But not in the affected block - Minerva. They went off in Neptuno. How does that all work?


QUIZ
Yesterday's title - "Mamma Mia", Abba (again): http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WY57jGNCN8Q. Today's title - some old friends of this blog.

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