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Andalusia or Andalucía?

The autonomous region of Andalusia (Andalucía in Spanish) is in the southern part of Spain. It spans from Atlantic coast in the west to the sheltered coast of the Mediterranean Sea in the east and from Málaga's Costa del Sol to the borders of Castilla – La Mancha the famous flat lands and Don Quixote windmill country.  With an average of 300 plus days of sunshine a year the coastal area is an all year round destination. Not so in the inland provinces of Cordoba, Jaen and Sevilla which ha ve baking hot summers that can reach +40c and cold winters which can be 0c or less overnight. The Mezquita, Córdoba Andalusia is divided into eight provinces, each with a provincial city of the same name. Some of them are far more famous than others: Almería , Cádiz, Córdoba, Granada, Huelva, Jaén, Málaga and Sevilla. The three land-locked provinces are Córdoba, Jaé n and Sevilla, the rest are coastal. Each province and city is full of culture, history, traditions, fabulous monuments and cre...
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Boob Squashing Mammograms and Thoughts

I was on time - a first for - my two- yearly appointment for a boob squashing in Spain. Arriving at 12pm I recognised many faces from my little town in the waiting area. Husbands had driven their (probably non-driving) wives to the nearby larger town to find themselves having a chinwag with mates in the corridor and the wives all knowing each and chatting while sitting in the waiting room.

I was greeted, asked the time of my appointment, grins all round then told that those with an appointed hour of 11.30 were still waiting. Joy.

Quickly establishing myself as not wanting to join the local village chit chat I stood by the entrance and got out my phone. Playing games, working a bit, doing Wordle, answering WhatsApps, the time dragged on. Waiting room numbers grew and dwindled, slowly.  It appeared that the same, nearing retirement age, nurse was doing boob scans and the X-rays in the adjacent salon. 

My time came. One hour 51 minutes late I entered the room, answered questions about my cancers in my family, my five minute alloted appointment time already six minutes in when boobs were womanhandled onto the slab of the open-jawed machine.

First one, then the other, then a different angle, one shot wasn´t good enough a profile so another take needed. I stepped out of my thoughts and began planning a trip away while holding one boob aside, keeping belly close but away from the machine, chin up as positioned and not daring to move as instructed. It´s amazing how the brain (or my brain) can detach itself from body at times. 

Then I had this very worrying thought. What would happen if the quite old nurse (my age or a bit more) suddenly keeled over or an earthquake hit or the fire alarm went off. How long would I spend with boob clamped, immovable until rescued. Squished in a machine with the controls on the other side of the room, dressed only dangly earringsa above my waist.  

Then it was over, the final release, the nod of the acceptance of the final photo - images I will never  see. Not that I like photos of me but these would definately be unrecognisable?

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