Known as Isidro the Farmer. He is the Patron Saint of Madrid. The legend goes that his fellow workers complained that he was always late to work, and his master found him praying while an angel was doing his plowing for him.
He got married and had a son who fell down a deep well. Isidro prayed and the waters of the well rose up and delivered the child safely. Immediately afterwards, Isidro and his wife vowed abstinence and slept in separate houses from thence on.
I fail to see the logic in that.
Band practiced on Friday, without our lead guitarist, who had to work. It was a fun time.
I watched The FA Cup Final with Pete and then went to see Susana's boyfriend, Joe, who broke his ankle on Wednesday. He slipped going down the stairs to his flat because they were wet, with no sign to warn him. In the US he would have gotten a fortune, but not here. Susana was away for the Holiday so i asked if he needed anything. "A few liter bottles of beer would be superb!" SO i guess i was kind of like the Red Cross. Then I met Brian at the festival but it was pandemonium because Atletico was playing its last home game of the season less than a mile away. Idiots! Who plans these things? The Metro was insane, jammed with thousands of people. So i went home and watched the Mets lose again. Same as it ever was.
Tonight will decide La Liga, Barca or Real Madrid. Barca controls their own destiny. Barca plays at home and Real plays in Malaga. Pete and i will go somewhere showing both games.
Work starts up again tomorrow in full, which is good. 57 today, it's been cooler than usual, which is nice.
And that's my life.