Sunday Walk and Curious Cats

Another set of photos from today's Sunday walk, mainly featuring animals.

There's a house near the Cathedral that is always surrounded by cats. You can tell that they're mostly feral so I don't get too close to them but they are very interesting to sit and watch in their little group. Some of them will sit and watch you too but mostly they pretend that I'm not there.

As for the storks... well, they are a very peculiar sight! In Zamora they are generally considered to be pests. There are dozens of them atop the oldest buildings, with HUGE nests and they make the strangest sounds... almost like a loud, ticking clock. No one really knows why they are here, but it is suspected that they migrate here because they like it.

As you can see, I have remodelled my page. I think before it was a little 'busy' looking. I hope you like the changes.

I am now also known as 'The Cosy Cat', to sister 'The Curious Cat'... keeping it in the family!

xxx

Grandma

Empanada

It might not look like much but this is my very first home made 'Empanada' - my new Spanish love.

Inside the pastry there's all sorts of delicious flavours... tomatoes, tuna, green olives stuffed with pimento, onions, hard boiled egg and parsley.

It's moist, it flavoursome, it's simply delightful for lunch served with some fresh spinach and a drizzle of balsamic syrup.

I hear that out in the villages they make it with chorizo... I intend to send my companera out to get me some.

Yes sir.



Oh and while we're discussing food... is it ok to dip your Twix in peanut butter when the shop has run out of Snickers?

Sunday Walk

Night Owl

What is so wrong with sitting in a cafe on one's own, with a glass of wine and a man with half a face sat next to you?

In Pamplona, where the city streets are bare on the afternoon of a winter's Saturday, I am waiting for the Ear and I am curious why in Spain people gaze at me with a mixture of wonder and amused disgust. What, with my hair and alabaster skin (through which you can see my blue blood), I am immediately identifiable as a 'giddy'. Only worse. A giddy with a book and with a pen.

Possibly this is a crime here.

I am a guilty giddy who doesn't mind my own company. In fact, I am probably growing too used to it.

Me, myself and I. (Plus laptop, book or brightly coloured fineliner)

When my job finishes in May this will officially have been 9 months of utter idleness as a result of following love, to no avail.

A woman must learn to live on her own at least once, even if she doesn't like it.

LESSON LEARNED.

Turns out this memory stuff is actually quite difficult to manage.

So 'once a day' might be more like 'when inspiration arrives'.

When it comes to typing off the top of my head I can tap away like a maniac.

But when it comes to actually writing something for a purpose I freeze up and I can't tell if it is

appalling laziness or, as my friend kindly pointed out, crippling insecurity.

For example, I attempted to write about the time that my friend CC and I decided to sell lemonade on the

roadside. It was full of gaps, lacking detail and generally not very good.

I've lost my creative touch!

Any advice?