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Day Two in Mallorca

The weather out here in Palma resembles a balmy mid-September UK during daylight, becoming significantly colder once the sun goes down about 6.00pm. Day Two began about 10.00am when my son Barry came to pick me up and take me to his industrial unit about 15 miles out of town, the hub of his ‘global business empire’ of which perhaps more another time.

After a while – and a comment from Barry to the effect that having me standing in the back of the office watching their every move was putting them off (“It’s like we’re on some sort of reality TV show!”) – I took the hint and volunteered to go for a walk in the locality. I did try to heed his cheery warning received upon setting off (“Be sure to remember some landmarks on the way, it’s easy to get yourself lost round here …”) but without success. Having strolled up the main road to the classic car place and back again I made three failed attempts to go back down the correct side road and then made the cardinal error of using my initiative which took me upon a wild detour of approximately two miles. It ended with me ringing in to report that Barry may not have noticed that I’d been gone for about an hour longer than anticipated, but I’d managed to lose myself and had now got back to the classic car emporium and could he possibly come and collect me?

He was about to leave for a meeting back in town and would pick me up on the way, which was handy.

Walking back to my hotel I stopped at a cafe for a ham and cheese baguette and a Coca-cola before returning to my hotel room, having a much-needed shower and then snoozing with the TV on in the corner of the room. The hotel TV service consists of exclusively Spanish programming comprising about 30% news and sport, 30% crappy adverts and shopping channels and a 40% rump of cheesy American TV programming from the 1980s.

norrisI knew – and seen stills – of the bearded former martial arts champion turned actor Chuck Norris, but had never previously seen him in anything. Not any more. Looking totally out of place wearing mullet-cut shoulder-length red hair and beard, topped with a black Stetson about the size of a small marquee, yesterday I saw him ‘walk’ (I couldn’t call it act) through two episodes in succession of a Dick Van Dyke or Angela Lansbury-standard daytime detective series.

In some sort of retro-kitch way it was completely riveting. The set-up involved laughingly obvious cartoon-like baddies and goodies – and both episodes both ended with Norris displaying his kick-boxing skills and his character’s (to modern eyes) apparently full-on psychopathic tendencies. As the finale unfolded, without exception every baddie in the show seemed to line up in turn to either get shot without compunction or else beaten to a pulp. These are morality tales, after all. It was akin to watching the world according to Donald Trump back in his heyday.

A quieter evening last night. We went for an Indian meal about 250 yards from my hotel and I was happy to be back in my hotel bed by 11.15pm.