A drunk-sounding Peacock Band playing accordions, bones, and mouth organs in a pub in Chelsworth, Suffolk the early 1970s.

Party political prejudice, or yet more historical memory bollocks?

Nominations for the noblest British fighter in a Spanish war, and speculative revisions of the history of two idiot idioms.

An etymological hop from kite-flying with Juan Marsé back to Concha Piquer’s greatest hit.

German and Spanish approaches to rehabilitation of what may or may not have been anti-fascists.

Here.

The Santa Majestat in Caldes de Montbui.

Seeing hordes of plump Barcelonans engaged in public Tai-chi–imagine Jackie Chan on lard–and reading of the dreadful internal purges inflicted by Johannes Itten–who seems to have believed himself a Tibetan monk–on Bauhaus students before the parties started, I remembered that I was going to translate a bit more Aub’s Campo cerrado. So here, at top [...]

Antonio Mingote claims to have walked down Muntaner in uniform the day before Barcelona was officially taken by Franco.

There is no statistical evidence for claims that the Franco government worked for Real Madrid and against Barça.