The sewing bee ...

Isn't it a lovely thing to be able to take your work out-of-doors? Especially on a nice sunny day it seems wrong to stay inside when all the world is bright and cheerful and the sky is a heavenly blue above.

The other morning I came upon this rather unusual sewing bee, all bent over their labour in the bright Catalan sunshine. They were busy mending their nets with huge needles and big balls of nylon thread. Some individuals in the group were very practised, their needles flying in and out, and back and forth, like automated bobbins in a machine.

And, as is the case with any group of friends when they're working on a shared endeavour, they chatted amiably as they sewed, looking up occasionally to see how their neighbours were getting on or how they'd reacted to the last wisecrack that had sent a gentle ripple of laughter floating out to sea.

And then I noticed that I wasn't the only spectator. This chap was standing at a discrete distance from the group keeping a careful eye out for anything tasty that might tumble out of the folds.

Luckily for him the harbour cat was elsewhere - probably terrorising some unsuspecting tourists who thought the harbour would make a scenic background for a few selfies. The harbour cat is an animal that you mess with at your peril - hence the absence of photographs of him on my blog. I've never had the courage to stand still and take his picture when he's launching himself at us like a furry orange missile with his fangs bared and his claws unsheathed.

All the best for now,

Bonny x

Boys ...

Today I spent the day with Emi and one of his best friends. We played tennis, we went swimming and after lunch we did some rock pooling. Everyone wore their flip flops, which made clambering over the rocks a  bit difficult. Duh! I should have known better. It must have been the heat that was melting my brain and leaving me incapable of making rational decisions ... . I mean I'm normally quite good at keeping all the children in my care alive and in one piece.

Then, just as we were struggling over a particularly large boulder and I was feeling less than up to the task, I saw these boys doing this:

Moonlit Sant Feliu de Guíxols ...

Tonight there's a party in town. It's La Nit en Blanc, when nobody goes to bed, and everyone's out and about, meeting and greeting and partying like summer's never going to end.

Emi and I took the Wonder Dog for his after-dinner stroll along the waterfront. It was a perfect night with scarcely a breath of wind, lit up by a huge round moon that hung low in the sky. Everyone was out. Laughter and music from other people's parties drifted through the air. The lights from the village danced across the waves as we walked along the breakwater.

Emi told me about a story that he wants to write. It had the sort of labyrinthine plot that appeals to nine year old boys who desperately want to bring dinosaurs back to life, and then mix them up with some aliens and a spot of extraterrestrial exploring. I'm sure I didn't follow it all, but with the special magic of the moonlight on the water it was hard to concentrate on the details. I think I said Really? and That's interesting enough times to convince him that I was listening attentively even though my gaze never left that wonderful August moon.

All the best for now,

Bonny x

Harbour tails ...

The Wonder Dog has a nemesis down at the harbour these days. He's a great big ginger tom cat, and he takes no prisoners. When he sees us he comes racing out of the shadows hissing and fussing and squaring up for a fight. The Wonder Dog, who is more of a lover than a fighter, hides behind my legs and tries very hard to be invisible. I do a funny little sideways shuffle to work my way around the ferocious feline without getting my legs shredded or my dog massacred in the process. I'm guessing that this particular moggy's got a good supply of dinner in the form of left-over fish, and he's not about to start sharing it with anyone any time soon ... .

We trot on trying hard to look like we're not bothered. Although the truth is that I'm always a bit too shaken by the mad cat experience to take a photo of him. I mean he's really scary. It's a pity as he'd make a very fine photo with his back arched, his fur standing on end, and his lips drawn back to give us a clear view of his razor sharp teeth. But it's like he's possessed or something, and, as I can't predict how he'll behave, I always chose the safer option and hurry on past him to the relative safety of the inner harbour. 

By the time we reach the life-savers' cottage on the top of the hill we've recovered our composure. It's a sweet little building. These days it operates as a museum about life-saving along the Costa. Here in Sant Feliu they used to make buoyancy aids from the local cork. They'd fashion them into great cumbersome jackets that would have helped keep people up, but must have made it almost impossible for them to move through the water in the direction of their rescuers. 

We normally meet a standard schnauzer up there these mornings, who's a great deal friendlier than the ginger tom. He makes the Wonder Dog look like his Mini Me.

Well, I'll be schnauzered!

The cottage was built by the Shipwreck Rescue Association back in 1897 as a place of shelter for anyone who was shipwrecked off the coast of Sant Feliu. 

Local men volunteered their time, taking turns to do their bit to help those in distress. Being a sea-faring village the focus here has always been on the seaward, rather than the landward horizon. Everyone would have been able to empathise with the plight of those in trouble and would have held a sincere wish that, should their situations ever be reversed, someone would come to their aid too.

The cottage sits on a small cliff at the mouth of the old harbour, so the folk up there would have enjoyed a good view of everything that was taking place round about.

Back in the old days the fishing boats would have been landed on the beach, where they would have sat waiting for their next expedition. These days the beach looks very different.

And, thankfully, we still have a few lifeguards around.

All the best for now,

Bonny x

So what's the story?

This chap greeted me on my way home on Monday evening. I was walking back from the Convent of Sant Daniel, just outside the city walls of Girona when I spied him, towering large on the side of a building and looking for all the world as though he was suffering from the mother of all hangovers.

On reflection though, I think he's been dancing a Sardana, the traditional dance of Catalonia that originated in this part of Empordá. He's certainly dressed for the part. It's danced in a circle with everyone holdings hands, and my guess is it's all left him feeling a little bit dizzy ... .

All the best for now,

Bonny x