Another brick in the fall

It was over twenty five years ago, but I remember the look of nervous bewilderment on his face as if it were yesterday.

“No, no, ermm......gracias.”

He whispered the last word with the caution of a man who knows his manners but doesn't want to offer the least encouragement to his inquisitor. Actually, I think the poor chap must have thought I was making some kind of gauche romantic pass at him or something judging by his quietly startled reaction. That's the thing with cultural differences - they can rear their confusing head just when you least expect it.

Coming from a land where any tradesman worth his salt expects a homeowner to offer a minimum of five gallons of tea per day to anyone plying their trade on his property, I just assumed it was international law to do so, stipulated in a treaty signed by world leaders many centuries ago. Alas, I was wrong. I learned the hard way that day that Spanish workmen generally bring a thermos flask of their own and are not used to being regaled with mugs of tea like treacle and plates of custard creams that have seen better days. On the upside, the job was completed in record time.

I was reminded of this rather awkward episode recently when a man came over to build a wall for me. Not wanting to recreate the uncomfortable scenes of yesteryear, I tried not to stare but the fact is, I find professional tradespeople fascinating. This is principally because I'm rubbish at practical tasks and watching plumbers/electricians/bricklayers ply their trade is, in my eyes, akin to witnessing some kind of black magic. A wall! How can a bloke wave a trowel around for a few hours and possibly build a wall? I know it's not exactly the Great Pyramid of Giza we're talking about here but it might as well be - my chances of constructing either one successfully are roughly about the same.

Anyway, as you may have read elsewhere in this esteemed publication, the 58th edition of the Spanish national bricklaying competition - the Peña El Palustre - took place last Sunday in El Palo, Malaga. There, under an unforgiving Andalusian sun, the twenty eight participating teams were asked to construct something a bit like a mini helter-skelter until, after nearly five hours of unfathomable witchcraft, Aleix Pleina and Vasile Safta from Tarragona were proclaimed worthy winners by the judges. Congratulations to them.

Meanwhile, rumours of proceedings being constantly interrupted by ruddy-faced English people offering participants steaming mugs of tea and stale jammy dodgers have yet to be confirmed.

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