Friday Five: Sangria etc.

Let's be clear; the 'etc.' is Aperol Spritz. Cousin Rachael introduced us to it on Ibiza, and we are very grateful. The first night we arrived in Ibiza, we were very tired and jet-lagged, not to mention temperature-shocked (having arrived from winter in Canberra), so we had an evening of soft lights, sea smells, island sounds, and the taste of Aperol Spritz. Delightful.

One day on our island trip, we took a ferry to Formentera, where we hired e-bikes (the first time I have ever ridden one) and pedalled about the place to see a lighthouse (obviously) and have lunch. Lunch was accompanied by a jug of Sangria, which seemed appropriate. One can get white or red sangria, the white being ' a modern take on the classic sangria' and made with white wine - preferrably dry - and usually slightly less heavy in alcohol volume - the perfect midway beverage on a bike ride. 

Apparently that's Tenerife

After we'd returned the bikes (with some elementary Spanish sorting out the fact that we'd lost the ticket but still wanted our deposit back - thanks, Cousin Rachael), we tried out the Aperol Spritz at the ferry terminal while waiting to embark.

Another day; another form of transport. We negotiated buses to Ibiza Town, where Him Outdoors had to register for the race, and Cousin Rachael and I touristed about the place and drank jugs of sangria in the Old Town.

Back down in the poncy bit, we paid far too much for a jug of the white sangria, but the location and company were very pleasant, and we didn't really mind. 

Bedtime stories: Witches Abroad

Witches Abroad by Terry Pratchett

Corgi Books

Pp.286

This, the twelfth novel in Terry Pratchett’s Discworld series, is the second that revolves specifically around the three witches: Granny Weatherwax; Nanny Ogg and Magrat. In Wyrd Sisters, readers were introduced to these characters, and it is a delight to welcome them back like old friends. Magrat inherits a wand from Desiderata so she must become a fairy godmother and interfere in stories: she can’t help but turn things into pumpkins and she tries to stop Embers from going to the ball and marrying a prince, who is, in fact, a frog. Stories have power because they inform belief, and those who control the narrative have the greatest power of all.

It transpires that Granny Weatherwax has a sister, Lily – now calling herself Lilith – who wants to force people into enacting the stereotypes of the fairytales, living in a land where everyone must be happy whether they like it or not. Lily lets several stories happen simultaneously; like the evil queen who appears in the mirror, she uses mirror magic as a form of control. She has her own form of power (is she the good or the bad witch, and which one does that make Granny Weatherwax?). “She had buried three husbands, and at least two of them had been already dead.” Pratchett touches upon myths and legends as well as fairytales, so Circe, Bluebeard, Casanova, vampires and the Wizard of Oz intermingle with Cinderella, Rumpelstiltskin, the Three Little Pigs, Little Red Riding Hood, the Three Bears, Snow White and Sleeping Beauty – “There’ll be a spinning wheel at the bottom of all this, you mark my words.”

As the witches set off to right the wrongs of the world, they learn about the structure of stories: “Three was an important number for stories. Three wishes, three princes, three billy goats, three guesses… three witches. The maiden, the mother and the… other one. That was one of the oldest stories of all.” Naturally, not all these conventions are true, for example, “The natural size of a coven is one. Witches only get together when they can’t avoid it.” Meanwhile, Nanny Ogg sends postcards home to our Jason, about what it’s like to be abroad or in foreign parts (where they do odd things like ‘drink fizzy wine out of ladies’ boots’) and obviously the structure and convention of writing postcards is its own artform – sadly, practically lost in 2023.

Granny Weatherwax dislikes stories because she thinks they are unnatural, and they try to make people conform. “You get too involved with stories, you get confused. You don’t know what’s really real and what isn’t. And they get you in the end. They send you weird in the head. I don’t like stories. They’re not real. I don’t like things that ain’t real.” She explains the laissez-faire approach to life. “You can’t go around building a better world for people. Only people can build a better world for people. Otherwise it’s just a cage.” One could contend that she (and by association Pratchett) is arguing against interventional socialism. “No more stories. No more godmothers. Just people, deciding for themselves. For good or bad. Right or wrong.” Or one could just enjoy it as a right rollicking story of witches abroad.