Wednesday, April 05, 2006


Apparently there's a speeding ticket waiting for me at home. I can't imagine why, since the car won't get over a hundred klix unless there's a high wind coming from behind.
The DGT, the traffic agency, has been accused of placing speed-cameras in easy, straight and non- dangerous bits of the nation's highways as 'recaudatorias' or cash generators. They are sometimes hidden on those rather useless panels with soviet-style messages ('don't drink and drive') which are beginning to decorate the motorways.
So, with petrol going up, parking prices through the roof, speeding tickets clattering through the post-box and nitwits scratching messages in your paintwork, it's easier these days to take the train. Murcia to Madrid is about four hours. You can read your book or wander about in a train, and although they won't let you smoke or open a window, you can a least sip on a beer in the calaboose.
I shall be taking one later today in the loose direction of home. First I must buy a book.

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