HATE

It is said that great unhappiness lies in the search of happiness...
I have so far prided myself in achieving great satisfaction out of little things, I mean, I don't need to make a cruise to Mars to have a good time: a nice book -or comic-book-, an ice-cool glass of tiger-nut milk , watch a Bugs Bunny cartoon or a group of sparrows sandbathing in the park

One of these wee, but extremely rewarding pleasures is the daily morning ritual: drinking a tallat (1) in a near bar or cafeteria while reading the newspaper that the owner of the premises kindly leaves at the disposition of customers.
Now, the main setback of this is that I am often not the only one who wants to read the paper: I’m not the only customer. This is usually not great trouble as people usually peers through the news and articles and then leaves the rag at the bar so other customers can enjoy the read.

I have found though, some attitudes which I consider downright uncivil and deeply antisocial: Shall I mention the "crab", that is, those who read the paper backwards and make you think that they are about to finish their read… you sit in the belief that the paper will be soon available and will spend some twenty minutes nervously toying with your spoon in the cuppa.

Even a more deadly specimen is the corsswords or sudoku aficionado: their antics are fiendishly tantalising, as these passtimes are usually in the end pages. You think, again that they are a coupla pages away from the finish, but no, suddenly they will stop at the ******* crosswords page and thus hold the newspaper in ransom fror a handsome three quarters of hour. (I’d suggest bar owners to cut this page so these addicts can enjoy their vice without disturbing the pleasure of newspaper junkies such like me)

I thought that I had seen it all, but this morning I had the back luck of coming across a most redoubtable coffee-table-reader: it is a lady, who has come to my regular caffeine haunt in the last days, at the same hour that I do. She has successfully managed to spoil my early morning ritual: she not only reads the paper at the speed of an aged snail with accute reumathism, but takes the TWO newspapers that Jordi leaves at the disposal of customers, and keeps in a way (hiding one under the other) that one can’t request the unused newspaper without feeling one is invading someone else’s privacy. Thus she keeps any other customer without a read for nearly an hour…. My goodness! What is she doing with the papers all that time… memorize them??!!

Quoth Don Furcio Buscabollos"¡A morte os cebollos cocidos!"

P.S.: Now you will say "Why don’t you just BUY the paper?!" Ah, my friends, this would take all the fun out of it :p

(1) Express cofee with a bit of milk in a small cup. What the Italians call machiatto and the Castilians dub cortado