I’m going to have to go shopping again.
I’m clean out of chocolate, bread and marmalade.
Following the Government’s advice (without, I have to say, really knowing why), I loaded up on three days of provisions last week. Preparedness and resilience are the key.
There were lots of empty water bottles stored haphazardly in the kitchen, so I had gone by the Fuente to fill them up. I also bought a couple of packs of cigarettes and a bottle of vodka from Isabel’s corner-store (I don’t smoke any more, but while I’m learning to say ‘I surrender’ in Russian, I thought I had better be prepared).
I still have plenty of toilet tissue. I’m not making that mistake again. Back in the Covid-days the household was woefully short of loo-paper, and I was the only reader. They would make me sit outside and sometimes shout ‘OK, I’ve finished another chapter’.
Try that with a Kindle!
I will buy some soap and toothpaste. One must look one’s best when surrendering.
Other vital supplies must include plenty of canned food, for when the electricity fails.
Also, to keep me in tortillas, another chicken (the dog got the last one).
I’ll need a tin-opener and apparently a Swiss army knife (what, for defence? Or I dunno, maybe it’s to skin a wild boar). An extra bottle of gas, candles, lighter, torch, coffee, aspirin and bandages. Let’s see: A recipe book for garden plants and, just in case I turn feral, a jumbo bottle of HP Sauce.
The reason why we must stock up at least three days in case of emergency seems a bit peculiar – since whether a nuclear winter, an invasion by the Ivans, another Trump-inspired market crash, a plague, a comet or a mass-poisoning from micro-plastics (the most likely of the lot) – it stands to reason that they are all going to take longer than a three-day vacation from work before society can settle down again.
On Friday, and this is true, I drove over to the barracks of the Spanish legion, la Legión Española, in Viator, just outside Almería (they have another command in Ronda). Joining a few military enthusiasts, I had been invited to visit their on-site museum. OK, there are a number of portraits of past leaders – including José Millán-Astray (a Samurai enthusiast who founded the Spanish Legion) and a youthful looking Francisco Franco. Millán-Astray is said to have lost an eye in a battle against the Berber rebels in North Africa and then to make matters worse, and not ten minutes later, he had his arm shot off at the elbow. This so enraged him that he picked it up and threw it at the enemy – which shocked them to the point that they immediately gave up. 
And who could blame them (it's an apocryphal story says my guide, Andrés).
I don’t know anything much about the other one, Francisco Franco, I think he later went into politics.
Joking aside, the museum is full of what one might expect – arms, uniforms, paintings and history, while the presentation was made by a few junior officers speaking in English – since all NATO officers must use that language. A sensible choice indeed.
Listening to them, I genuinely felt that they would have our backs if it became necessary.
But, and let’s be practical, they’ll have other duties than looking out for little me. So, who must I turn to if the Armageddon hits?
I was thinking of buttering up Juan the Gardener. He has plenty of potatoes and apparently an interesting recipe for cats.
After all, one never knows...