Moving on

I think I've commented before about how I use my phone's note pad as we travel and then combine the observations into a blog post when we find some reliable Wifi. It means the blog reflects our journey in real time. It's a journal, not a memoir nor a travel guide. This does have an unexpected benefit that when Blogger has a meltdown - usually some glitch between  the Blogger Android app and version on my laptop, - there is a back-up of a kind on my phone's notepad. So when this afternoon a post from a couple of days ago - 'Just a little green' - disappeared into some mysterious black hole in cyberspace, I was able to reconstruct it quite easily. What has disappeared forever is the comment left by a reader that I had not had time to reply to. So, 'Carol' I did read your appreciative comment and thank you!

Not all my notes end up on the blog, some stay as 'notes to self''. I have rather a lot of them written over recent days in response the the impromptu pantomime that broke out in London on Friday evening. To be honest, given what I have posted previously, it's not difficult to work out the likely gist of my rants, so really there's not much point in posting them.

So time to move on, both actually and metaphorically. So far as the actual  goes we've moved inland from Costa Tropica to Granada. Looking back, what I have written about the coast around Motril does not really do it justice. I think the odd, stultifying ambiance of the crowded 'snowbird' sites affects how I feel about the area generally. In fact the little settlements strung the shore to the east of the town are not unattractive, and the coastline itself has a stark beauty that under the hyper-real clarity of winter light looks distinctly exotic and un-European.

You do not have to travel far inland before you are reminded of the epic scale of Spain's landscape. The motorway sweeps upwards from the coast and within 20km or so you glimpse the snow-topped peaks of the Sierra Nevada. There are no higher mountains than these outside of the Alps in Western Europe.

It will be our third visit to Granada. We have visited its big sites, so tomorrow we are going to content ourselves with having a wander and finding somewhere nice for lunch. Away from the tourist honey-pot of the Alhambra Granada is a more characterful place than you might assume. A university town, graffiti daubed and grungy in places, almost 'raffish' if that's not too old fashioned a term.

So far as moving on metaphorically is concerned - I received an email from my sister headed 'Black Friday'. I hope she doesn't mind me sharing a part of my reply:

"I think we were lucky to hale from 'mixed heritage' background, it is much easier to understand early on that identity is a flexible thing, partly an accident of birth, but also a question of choice and changing circumstances. For example, though I came from a working class background it would be ridiculous for me to pretend that's what I am now. 

Similarly, one of the surprising things I discovered during the whole Brexit debacle was that over the years I had acquired a European identity without realising it. It was only when faced with the prospect of having my rights as a European citizen perfunctorily removed that I realised how much I valued them. In this regard, post Brexit, I find myself feeling less British, because the version of Britishness that is in the ascendancy is an anathema to my values. Even if I am forced to have a blue passport I will feel no less European, just a disenfranchised one! At the moment I am embarrassed to be British to be honest, but proud to be European. I am heading towards being an expat in my homeland. If Gill and our kids could benefit, I would pursue the option of seeking Irish citizenship. However, it would only apply to me, and €300 - €400 is too much simply to make a political point.

Anyway, it's a lovely afternoon here on the outskirts of Granada, snow on the peaks of the Sierra Nevada, sunny and warm in the valleys below with almond trees just flowering, birds singing, a happy hubbub of Spanish families having an extended lunch. As Jo Cox said, 'We are far more united and have far more in common with each other than things that divide us'. She paid a high price for asserting principles of common humanity and decency.

Watching the clowns in London on Friday night I wondered who is going to stand up and fight in the UK for those principles?

Anyway, there is a limit to how much you should let things that are beyond your control get you down, that is just a road to becoming depressed."

Moving on....