Tough fathers.

I was not bothering anybody in this world before my parents moved to Valladolid in the late sixties. Some years earlier, my father followed the advise of his oldest brother and found a more profitable way of living in the most humid part of The Iberic peninsula, the Basque Country, in the luxury business of Black Carrara Marble production. He spent the day in the quarry wearing some garment which use is probably today considered as against the human rights. It was more waterproof than the tar that cover the outer part of the boats, so no rain could reach my father clothes. Nevermind, they were already dumped by the mix of condensation and transpiration, a cocktail that was hard to get rid of as the place where he lived was neither the driest on Earth. I don’t know how many years he managed to survive in those conditions, but after these 4 days under the Norwegian rain I have got to understand a bit was he may have felt. Of course, then there were no thermic underwear, breathable waterproof fabrics and sauna waiting for him every night. Obviously life conditions are much better now… at least for some of us… but does it means that former generations were much tougher than us? Sleep well.

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