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House now mainly cleaned. Book now mainly read. Concert on Saturday night was very good indeed, but it was marred somewhat by the fact that I could barely get to sleep, cos the duvet on the hotel room was too bl**dy small.
Other significant events included the fact that Susan (a german friend of ours & fiancee of Owen - an expat friend of ours) woke us up at 8:30ish this morning, looking distraught. The conversation started badly; "I'm sorry I've woken you, but there is a problem and I haven't slept all night. Owen and I were walking home last night when he got hit by a taxi...". Cue adrenaline, sudden sobriety, reading her face for evidence of 'looking distraught' (which there was, in spades) etc.
It actually turns out that what *actually* happened was that they were walking home after the concert & were within 50 meters of the hotel when a taxi basically came towards them too quickly for their comfort & they jumped out of the way with Owen either hitting the mirror as it went past, or knocking it somehow (but was fortunately not injured - not even remotely). Anyway,the taxi driver leaps out & starts demanding €200 for repairs to his broken wing-mirror, Owen refusing etc etc. Police become involved and ask to see ID for all concerned, Owen, being British, doesn't carry any and adamantly refuses to even consider paying the money for the broken taxi mirror. The police basically decide, 'right then, bollocks to the lot of you, you matey (Owen) are drunk & have no ID & probably have done something wrong. Back to the station, with you'. Load him into the waggon and drive him off, leaving poor old Susan at the side of the road at close to 2am, on her own with no idea of where he's gone, no contact details, nothing...
So we spend the morning a) calming Susan down & generally giving her emotional support, b) locating the police station (everything was closed at 9am), c) talking to policemen & d) waiting until until early afternoon in assorted cafes for everything to get resolved. Finally, we get a phone call and Owen (or prisoner # 477321, as we now call him) turns up, safe, sound & looking rather sheepish - but still not having paid the €200, insisting that it was the taxi drivers fault. We finally get everything sorted and get home.
In truth,I think we did enough simply by turning up & letting the police know that Owen was not some sort of mad taxi-bashing British illegal immigrant who managed to get into the country with no passport. Also, I have every sympathy with him & Susan, cos last night - in exactly the same place - Carole and I were walking home and a taxi buzzed us. The only difference was that I was considerably more sober than Owen, and was paying attention, as C was rather tiddly, so instead of almost being hit by a taxi, all that happened was that we almost unexpectedly went into an AMN ABMRO bank via a plate-glass window. Yes, it really *does* look like a pedestrian area.
S
Other significant events included the fact that Susan (a german friend of ours & fiancee of Owen - an expat friend of ours) woke us up at 8:30ish this morning, looking distraught. The conversation started badly; "I'm sorry I've woken you, but there is a problem and I haven't slept all night. Owen and I were walking home last night when he got hit by a taxi...". Cue adrenaline, sudden sobriety, reading her face for evidence of 'looking distraught' (which there was, in spades) etc.
It actually turns out that what *actually* happened was that they were walking home after the concert & were within 50 meters of the hotel when a taxi basically came towards them too quickly for their comfort & they jumped out of the way with Owen either hitting the mirror as it went past, or knocking it somehow (but was fortunately not injured - not even remotely). Anyway,the taxi driver leaps out & starts demanding €200 for repairs to his broken wing-mirror, Owen refusing etc etc. Police become involved and ask to see ID for all concerned, Owen, being British, doesn't carry any and adamantly refuses to even consider paying the money for the broken taxi mirror. The police basically decide, 'right then, bollocks to the lot of you, you matey (Owen) are drunk & have no ID & probably have done something wrong. Back to the station, with you'. Load him into the waggon and drive him off, leaving poor old Susan at the side of the road at close to 2am, on her own with no idea of where he's gone, no contact details, nothing...
So we spend the morning a) calming Susan down & generally giving her emotional support, b) locating the police station (everything was closed at 9am), c) talking to policemen & d) waiting until until early afternoon in assorted cafes for everything to get resolved. Finally, we get a phone call and Owen (or prisoner # 477321, as we now call him) turns up, safe, sound & looking rather sheepish - but still not having paid the €200, insisting that it was the taxi drivers fault. We finally get everything sorted and get home.
In truth,I think we did enough simply by turning up & letting the police know that Owen was not some sort of mad taxi-bashing British illegal immigrant who managed to get into the country with no passport. Also, I have every sympathy with him & Susan, cos last night - in exactly the same place - Carole and I were walking home and a taxi buzzed us. The only difference was that I was considerably more sober than Owen, and was paying attention, as C was rather tiddly, so instead of almost being hit by a taxi, all that happened was that we almost unexpectedly went into an AMN ABMRO bank via a plate-glass window. Yes, it really *does* look like a pedestrian area.
S
