|I have been right from taking the blue tie clear -the only blue tie that I have- of the wardrobe. And the small check shirt. I doubted it while we rose from the airport of Madrid saw up, under the gray sky, for the valley of the river Manzanares. A very elegant continental cold has received us on opening the wicket of the car, already in the estate of playtime. |
Then I have seen it clear, greeting some and to others in the hall, leaving the glass of whisky on the unavoidable table "tocinera" that decors alls this “fincas”, entering in the dining room among claps on the back and embraces to the old friends. In this business lunch all the ties are blue, out of the Italian Monsignor, that he shows a curial collar of priest. Navy blue ties, dark blue, sky blue, turquoise... with big knots picked up by wide necks of check shirts. This yes that it has changed into the Spanish bourgeoisie, capital Madrid: they have left the striped shirts vertical with smooth white neck of rounded tips.
To part of this, they are euphoric. The hands are rubbed with the millions of euros that have won with the sale of Endesa -the electricity of Catalonia and of big part of Spain and of Latin America- to the Germans. Much more that that they had to win in Iraq, with the quota of the reconstruction of the oil country that Aznar (prime minister at the time) had negotiated with Bush and Blair for the Spanish businessmen, by virtue of the participation of Spain in the war. That business failed, but the sale of Endesa has gone so well that it has made it forget immediately. Euphoria.