EMT (Eres Mu' Tonto)

El Corte Inglés de Castellana and AZCA

A Latin American woman was crossing the southward lanes of Calle de Embajadores (Ambassadors Street) next to Glorieta de Embajadores when one of the plastic bags she was carrying from the Maxi-Dia opposite the street ripped open and dropped some of its contents. The green light was already flashing as she struggled to pick up most of her stuff. At long last, she ran to the pavement and left a box of eggs behind on the asphalt. Cars started to move and excitement soared among the people waiting on our side of the street to cross. There was a respectful silence all along, though, only interrupted by the irrepressible sudden expressions of emotion. You could feel the mounting tension as cars drew nearer the eggs, and people's relief when they had just missed them. When we saw an oncoming red bus we all knew that would be the end of the eggs and expected to hear the crack. I narrowed my eyes. However, they were saved miraculously and the light turned back to green. The moral of the story is very simple, so I won't insist on it. I will point out instead that I was carrying my fruit and veg trolley home and Madalina hadn't called by the time of this unfortunate incident. Later on I'd go to Atocha to take some photographs on the day before the third anniversary of the train blasts and Madalina would call.

I was at Cuatro Caminos in the afternoon when my phone rang.
     'Hi. Where are you?', she asked.
     'I'm at Nuevos ministerios', I said. I was actually at Cuatro Caminos, but walking down Calle de Raimundo Fernández Villaverde towards Nuevos Ministerios, so I won't regard myself as a liar.

Calle de Raimundo Fernández Villaverde towards Nuevos Ministerios

     'What are you doing there?'
     'I have to buy some stuff'. I didn't want to spill the beans, and whoever knows me, knows I have a tendency to spill them. I needed to change the subject. 'Where are you?'
     'I'm in the centre, Gran Vía. Are we going to meet up at eight'
     'Yes, but I don't reckon I'll be able to make it to the centre. I still have to spend some time here. Why don't you come to Nuevos Ministerios?'
     'No, it's quite a long way and I'm tired'
     'Ok, then I suppose I can't see you at eight. Actually', I chuckled, 'I need to go to La Vaguada after I've finished here. Why don't we meet up there? They have shops. I suppose that if you're in the centre, you'll probably buy some books and you can sit on the metro for just over half an hour and read!'
     'No, I don't want to go to La Vaguada, it's too far. I'm going to stay in the centre. If you don't want to meet me, fine'
     'Ok, I'm going to go to La Vaguada because I have things I need to do there today and I'll try to be in the centre as soon as possible, ok? See you la'er!'. I didn't actually say "see you la'er". This is just a literary licence. I can't even pronounce it. What I said was "Hala, hasta luego", and not "Venga, hasta luego" because I'm not Madrileño and I was in the UK when this "fashionable" way of saying goodbye caught on in Galicia. In October I went to Galicia and heard people abusing the word "Venga" and it freaked the hell out of me. I remember I thought to myself while they were going on with their Venga, Venga, Venga, "What on earth is that about?".

I always lose my bearings in El Corte Inglés at Nuevos Ministerios. I had to ask a woman in the perfume department where the books section was. She said, "turn left, go downstairs and then follow the corridor". I saw the queue almost immediately and inspected it thoroughly. I was kind of embarrassed, but I pushed myself and bought the book. Finally I joined the queue and waited. My turn came. I handed the book to the man that was standing next to the writer and stood still until he beckoned to me. I said, 'Hi. It is for myself. My name is José Manuel'. He nodded. 'What do you do?', he asked me. 'I'm a researcher'. 'In what field?' 'Photonics'. 'Ah! I'm very happy for you! You are lucky!" I was making faces as if to say, "Well, it's not what you think. It's just all right!", but didn't get to say anything. Again, those who know me, know I'm not very loquacious, especially under pressure, and this man was starting to demand too much out of me. I just wanted my book signed and leg it!! If you want to hear the truth, I'd noticed people used to talk to him for quite a long time when I was in the queue, and I'm not going to deny that it had made me feel a bit uneasy, but I expected he'd say nothing to me if I didn't speak to him. My hypothesis wasn't working too well. 'That's because you're a fool', he added, and lowered his head and started writing. He lifted his head after a while and looked at me. Then he lowered it again and kept writing. When he finished, he signed the message, closed the book and handed it to me. "You don't attach too much importance to it because you're a fool, but allow me to give it importance myself", he concluded with a smile. I thanked him and left. One would think I thanked him for calling me a fool, but actually I thanked him for signing my book. He wasn't much mistaken in any case, so I should have congratulated him for finding out so quickly.


I saw Madalina later on that day, I'm not such a b*****d, and showed her the book after dinner in VIPS. She complained, "why didn't you tell me?". I said, "I told you to come but you didn't want to".