A 6,000€ fine isn't funny

My friends in Franceses thought they'd done all the paperwork necessary to register their house purchase when we dropped the papers off at the Land Registry months ago.

But on Thursday they got a letter in Spanish legalese, saying something about missing documents and "a fine of between 60 and 6000 Euros".

This was not good for their blood pressure.

So they scanned it and emailed it to me. And I couldn't really understand it either, but one of the missing documents seemed to be something to do with inheritance. Well, the man they bought the house from had had trouble sorting out the paperwork to prove that he'd inherited the house, and that therefore it was his to sell. And we had ten working days to sort this out. That's not long, given the working pace of most offices here.

My husband had the great idea of consulting his brother. Yup, it was the paper to prove the seller really had inherited the house. This left me wondering why on earth my friends were being threatened with a fine. Surely if the house sale wasn't legal, they were the victims? But the important point was that the notary ought to have a copy.

So we arranged to meet in Los Llanos next morning, to see the notary.

I could see no real reason why we'd have a problem, but I've always found that getting snotty works best if you look the part, so I dressed far more formally than normal, just in case snottiness should be required. I was aiming to look like a lawyer, but when I checked myself in the mirror, I looked more like a waitress. Oh well, better than looking like a slob.

For once, we didn't have to queue when we got to the notary. And yes, that was the paperwork we needed, and yes, we could have a copy. "I'll just find out the price for you."

I started to protest. Why should my friends have to pay, when clearly this wasn't their responsibility?

Well, it wasn't the notary's responsibility either. It was the seller's, and he wasn't here. Nine euros, please.

Nine euros wasn't worth a row. We paid up and got the magic piece of paper, and took it to the Land Registry in Santa Cruz, who said it all looked fine, "...for the moment."

So we really hope that the next letter they get will say that it's all sorted, but we're not opening the champagne yet.

John T Unger makes gorgeous firebowls. Since each one is hand made, they're not cheap, but I can well understand why people lash out on one.

I first came across John and his work via this article (which I heartily recommend for anyone facing any kind of crisis, and especially for any kind of artist.

But now John has another serious problem to overcome. Someone else is making remarkably similar firebowls, and - get this - is suing John to overturn his copyright in order to carry on. John says, "By suing me first, Wittrig has created a situation where a default judgment will be entered in his favor unless I am able to finance a full defense in court."


And as John says, "These issues affect artists, bloggers, journalists, freelancers, designers and pretty much everyone who makes their living through creative, original work." So John's having a sale of his art work to finance his defense. So if you fancy a bargin, check out http://www.johntunger.com/legal-defense-fund.html#at . Prices start at $1.

Lynch Mobs

Nick Griffin, the head of the near-Nazi BNP, plans to complain to the BBC that he faced a "lynch mob" on the programme "Question Time."

Certainly the audience were hostile. One told him, "You want me to leave this country. Where do you expect me to go? I was born here and I love this country. I bet if we had a whip round, we'd have no trouble getting your airfare out of the country. Why don't you go to the South pole? You'll like it there: it's all white."

In my opinion, Nick Griffin was rude first. He told the immigrants to get out before the audience member told him to get out.

Far more to the point, What Nick Griffin faced was purely verbal. Nick Griffin supports the KKK. Which means he supports lynch mobs. Real ones. Ones that murder on the flimsiest of evidence, and set light to the victim, often before he´s dead. People who do this


to a 14-year-old, just for whistling at a white girl in a shop.

He was called Emmett Till.

Nick Griffin faced a crowd of people disagreeing strenuously with him. NOT a lynch mob.

Loony Scumbags and Free Speech

For anyone who's managed not to hear, the British National Party) got two seats in the European parliament. This means, under pre-existing BBC rules, that their leader got to be on the popular political debate programme, "Question Time."

This has caused quite a row. The BNP are extremely unpopular with most people because they're as near as dammit, the Nazi party. They don't allow non-white members, and they want to encourage all non-whites to leave the country, even if they were born in the UK.

So some people feel very strongly that they shouldn't be allowed in national TV, because it legitimises them.

I disagree.

Firstly, the freedom to make non-controversial comments doesn't amount to much. Free speech isn't free unless it includes the right to be moronic, offensive and loony. There's no practical way to shut up the Nazis without also gagging the visionaries.

I used to be an extremist, you know. I said long and loud that women should be allowed to do any job they were capable of doing, and get paid the same as a man doing the same job. Back in the 1970s, this made me unpopular.

Secondly, banning things makes them attractive. I've seen at least two films just because someone in authority tried to stop me. ("The Life of Brian" and "The War Game".) I'd never have bothered otherwise.

Thirdly, and most importantly, I think we need to hear what he has to say. I'm 99.9% certain that he's a loony scumbag. After all, this is a man who thinks you can judge a person's worth by the shape of their toe-nails - sorry, the colour of their skin. It's the same amount of DNA either way. So that's what he'll look like on TV - a loony scumbag. That should lose him far more votes that banning him.

And if by some amazing chance he isn't as bad as I think, we need to know that, too. I've been known to be wrong before.

So stick him on TV, and let's see what he's made of.

Too much housework

Dismantling the old sofas, with the new ones in the background.

I spent Monday morning feeling tired and seasick. I'm not sure how much was down to having fun so much fun on El Hierro, how much was trying to work on the computer on the boat (it's like reading in a car - big mistake) and how much was a mild lurgy. But I didn't get much done, even though it was obvious that the boys hadn't exactly spent the weekend cleaning the house. In fact we went backwards, because the dishwasher broke. Lucky me, my husband managed to fix it. But by the time I realised that it had covered all the dishes in dirty, soapy water, they were mixed in with the other things in the cupboard, so the only sensible thing was to wash the whole lot again. I got one load done on Monday evening.

I was having sofas delivered on Tuesday morning. So I tidied up the living room and pulled the old sofas to one side to make space. Of course it was only common sense to mop at least the free bit of floor while it was free.

I had to move some of the junk out of the hallway so there'd be space to move the sofas in. Of course it was only common sense to mop that bit of floor, too.

Meanwhile, I was running the dishwasher pretty much continuously. It took another three loads to get everything clean. And naturally, it was only common sense to clean each shelf and drawer while it was empty.

Plus two loads of laundry.

Plus, I was going to teach, so I had to clean the kitchen. That included mopping the floor because it was embarrassing.

My friends from Franceses came for lunch, and managed to get the wooden frames from the old sofas into the van, once they'd taken the feet off. The wood will probably be reincarnated as kitchen doors.

Then I taught for two hours.

As you might imagine, I was well knackered after that lot. Which is when I made the wonderful discovery that one of the new sofas is long enough to lie down on and stretch out.

Bliss!


Loading the old sofa frames into the van.