tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-358068982024-03-14T06:17:34.888+00:00Memoria recente e antigaJoão de Castelo Brancohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03466237215806923419noreply@blogger.comBlogger7466125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35806898.post-76678287175814669862023-07-02T00:30:00.004+01:002023-07-02T00:30:00.141+01:00Parabéns!... 2 de Julho<div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic;"><b><i> <span style="font-size: medium;">A </span><span style="font-size: large;">Madalena</span><span style="font-size: medium;"> faz anos hoje.</span></i></b></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic; font-size: medium;"><b><i>Um belo dia de aniversário para a minha neta</i></b></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic; font-size: medium;"><b><i>é o que mais desejo neste momento... </i></b></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic;"><b><i>.</i></b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMaDUsBlwsdjF13C-NToxIsvHZMpnAn4oyHNjzeP-lUk_IUFz7SAQMPp3G_bbkv9llf5-sAEpnyFEUVmu8bSjiEJfIKp3mSp1dFTPl3MJ5QJh-PNU7GWAiVxgg-TDzqb3hGhXeqXZjOAecF78ZoFOBBCuGs2299LqdnmKpOwOS8fFSo-z8oMp6ZA/s400/Madalena%203.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic;"><b><i><img border="0" data-original-height="400" data-original-width="300" height="365" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMaDUsBlwsdjF13C-NToxIsvHZMpnAn4oyHNjzeP-lUk_IUFz7SAQMPp3G_bbkv9llf5-sAEpnyFEUVmu8bSjiEJfIKp3mSp1dFTPl3MJ5QJh-PNU7GWAiVxgg-TDzqb3hGhXeqXZjOAecF78ZoFOBBCuGs2299LqdnmKpOwOS8fFSo-z8oMp6ZA/w274-h365/Madalena%203.JPG" width="274" /></i></b></span></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic; font-size: medium;"><b><i>Maria Madalena Matos de Oliveira Constantino</i></b></span></div>João de Castelo Brancohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03466237215806923419noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35806898.post-43812580358535689612023-07-01T00:30:00.026+01:002023-07-01T00:30:00.154+01:00Parabéns!... 1 de Julho<div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic;"><b><i> O <span style="font-size: medium;">Miguel Figueiredo</span></i></b></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic;"><b><i> faz anos hoje.</i></b></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic;"><b><i>.</i></b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghqIo3Xth8fa0KIZJMWGMlhxRAwDM3-gbhlC0a1oTXDABRqo6DFfCxAEOD-IogVMxpdLPpt0yPHjKnNJmBWreg11QBg-MwRbxEzsHhq_QzoERiohiHU1BrYNLW72Y8wvENW3XxXbcyYtjAjnkQeXz6oED_KElAB_YMejOeWCD8mBtyIR9jdrrCKA/s1293/DSC_9090.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic;"><b><i><img border="0" data-original-height="1293" data-original-width="1050" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghqIo3Xth8fa0KIZJMWGMlhxRAwDM3-gbhlC0a1oTXDABRqo6DFfCxAEOD-IogVMxpdLPpt0yPHjKnNJmBWreg11QBg-MwRbxEzsHhq_QzoERiohiHU1BrYNLW72Y8wvENW3XxXbcyYtjAjnkQeXz6oED_KElAB_YMejOeWCD8mBtyIR9jdrrCKA/s320/DSC_9090.JPG" width="260" /></i></b></span></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic; font-size: medium;"><b><i>Dr. Miguel Ângelo Figueiredo</i></b></span></div>João de Castelo Brancohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03466237215806923419noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35806898.post-11712114298360039132023-06-29T00:30:00.092+01:002023-06-29T00:30:00.155+01:00Até parece que ando esquecido...<div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic; font-size: medium;"><b><i> ... de António Gedeão</i></b></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic; font-size: medium;"><b><i>.</i></b></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic; font-size: medium;"><b><i>Há muito tempo que não publico aqui um poema do</i></b></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic;"><b><i><span style="font-size: medium;">meu </span><span style="font-size: large;">"ilustre professor metodólogo" </span></i></b></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic;"><b><i><span style="font-size: large;">Rómulo de Carvalho</span><span style="font-size: medium;">, no </span></i></b></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic; font-size: large;"><b><i>Liceu de Pedro Nunes,</i></b></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic; font-size: medium;"><b><i>de Lisboa, em 1962/64</i></b></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic; font-size: medium;"><b><i>.</i></b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjz9_5mjN8gS-NUIDXGSXVipymugG7rMiVu0wjadrcJspNsqEPEXlvlM4NZjEtUrLKkW9uxkS33LwDSisNPIqFOuO2RSM9juPJNSJ4JVXEGrT9ktfwoYpW11m3DLBkSPtKtVY7RuxAaV1yOm0wYrbViwhgsSeAzLL6D2bgqYRwYBM7IYaA4Nf8tWw/s217/images%20(3).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="200" data-original-width="217" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjz9_5mjN8gS-NUIDXGSXVipymugG7rMiVu0wjadrcJspNsqEPEXlvlM4NZjEtUrLKkW9uxkS33LwDSisNPIqFOuO2RSM9juPJNSJ4JVXEGrT9ktfwoYpW11m3DLBkSPtKtVY7RuxAaV1yOm0wYrbViwhgsSeAzLL6D2bgqYRwYBM7IYaA4Nf8tWw/w259-h239/images%20(3).jpg" width="259" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic;"><i><b>António Gedeão</b></i></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic;"><i><b>(1906/1997)</b></i></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic;"><i><b>.</b></i></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic; font-size: x-large;"><b><i>Pedra filosofal</i></b></span></div><div style="text-align: left;">.</div><p><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic; font-size: medium;"><i><b>Eles não sabem que o sonho</b></i></span></p><p><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic; font-size: medium;"><i><b>é uma constante da vida</b></i></span></p><p><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic; font-size: medium;"><i><b>tão concreta e definida</b></i></span></p><p><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic; font-size: medium;"><i><b>como outra coisa qualquer,</b></i></span></p><p><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic; font-size: medium;"><i><b>como esta pedra cinzenta</b></i></span></p><p><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic; font-size: medium;"><i><b>em que me sento e descanso,</b></i></span></p><p><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic; font-size: medium;"><i><b>como este ribeiro manso</b></i></span></p><p><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic; font-size: medium;"><i><b>em serenos sobressaltos,</b></i></span></p><p><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic; font-size: medium;"><i><b>como estes pinheiros altos</b></i></span></p><p><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic; font-size: medium;"><i><b>que em verde e oiro se agitam,</b></i></span></p><p><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic; font-size: medium;"><i><b>como estas aves que gritam</b></i></span></p><p><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic; font-size: medium;"><i><b>em bebedeiras de azul.</b></i></span></p><p><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic; font-size: medium;"><i><b><br /></b></i></span></p><p><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic; font-size: medium;"><i><b>Eles não sabem que o sonho</b></i></span></p><p><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic; font-size: medium;"><i><b>é vinho, é espuma, é fermento,</b></i></span></p><p><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic; font-size: medium;"><i><b>bichinho álacre e sedento,</b></i></span></p><p><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic; font-size: medium;"><i><b>de focinho pontiagudo,</b></i></span></p><p><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic; font-size: medium;"><i><b>que fossa através de tudo</b></i></span></p><p><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic; font-size: medium;"><i><b>num perpétuo movimento.</b></i></span></p><p><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic; font-size: medium;"><i><b><br /></b></i></span></p><p><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic; font-size: medium;"><i><b>Eles não sabem que o sonho</b></i></span></p><p><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic; font-size: medium;"><i><b>é tela, é cor, é pincel,</b></i></span></p><p><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic; font-size: medium;"><i><b>base, fuste, capitel,</b></i></span></p><p><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic; font-size: medium;"><i><b>arco em ogiva, vitral,</b></i></span></p><p><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic; font-size: medium;"><i><b>pináculo de catedral,</b></i></span></p><p><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic; font-size: medium;"><i><b>contraponto, sinfonia,</b></i></span></p><p><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic; font-size: medium;"><i><b>máscara grega, magia,</b></i></span></p><p><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic; font-size: medium;"><i><b>que é retorta de alquimista,</b></i></span></p><p><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic; font-size: medium;"><i><b>mapa do mundo distante,</b></i></span></p><p><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic; font-size: medium;"><i><b>rosa-dos-ventos, Infante,</b></i></span></p><p><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic; font-size: medium;"><i><b>caravela quinhentista,</b></i></span></p><p><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic; font-size: medium;"><i><b>que é Cabo da Boa Esperança,</b></i></span></p><p><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic; font-size: medium;"><i><b>ouro, canela, marfim,</b></i></span></p><p><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic; font-size: medium;"><i><b>florete de espadachim,</b></i></span></p><p><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic; font-size: medium;"><i><b>bastidor, passo de dança,</b></i></span></p><p><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic; font-size: medium;"><i><b>Colombina e Arlequim,</b></i></span></p><p><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic; font-size: medium;"><i><b>passarola voadora,</b></i></span></p><p><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic; font-size: medium;"><i><b>pára-raios, locomotiva,</b></i></span></p><p><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic; font-size: medium;"><i><b>barco de proa festiva,</b></i></span></p><p><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic; font-size: medium;"><i><b>alto-forno, geradora,</b></i></span></p><p><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic; font-size: medium;"><i><b>cisão do átomo, radar,</b></i></span></p><p><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic; font-size: medium;"><i><b>ultra-som, televisão,</b></i></span></p><p><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic; font-size: medium;"><i><b>desembarque em foguetão</b></i></span></p><p><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic; font-size: medium;"><i><b>na superfície lunar.</b></i></span></p><p><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic; font-size: medium;"><i><b><br /></b></i></span></p><p><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic; font-size: medium;"><i><b>Eles não sabem, nem sonham,</b></i></span></p><p><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic; font-size: medium;"><i><b>que o sonho comanda a vida.</b></i></span></p><p><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic; font-size: medium;"><i><b>Que sempre que um homem sonha</b></i></span></p><p><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic; font-size: medium;"><i><b>o mundo pula e avança</b></i></span></p><p><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic; font-size: medium;"><i><b>como bola colorida</b></i></span></p><p><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic; font-size: medium;"><i><b>entre as mãos de uma criança.</b></i></span></p><p><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic; font-size: medium;"><i><b>.</b></i></span></p><p><i style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;">António Gedeão</span></b></i></p>João de Castelo Brancohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03466237215806923419noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35806898.post-49361377183663285662023-06-27T00:30:00.002+01:002023-06-27T11:10:45.028+01:00Humor antigo...<blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic; font-size: medium;"><i><b>...com o traço </b></i></span></div></blockquote><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic; font-size: medium;"><i><b>de </b></i></span></div></blockquote><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic; font-size: large;"><i><b>Vilhena </b></i></span></div></blockquote><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjUPcYtJ1l0tYy78UVSkek3-_dA_-KP-Rbm4nv0a1QYU90s7amGjPGEwQ4t8sQxcbvBxrQOFmM8XNmIyQU0svXyoxgGb8b0T7UVnjmTXMN8Gc0IJO7NGH97FwiMMm9CCYFasRJXOAKtgKRO9bHYq7E5NvnhRejeab8U0YNhD_Rv55ewag_4NSVAKQ" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="1281" data-original-width="930" height="412" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjUPcYtJ1l0tYy78UVSkek3-_dA_-KP-Rbm4nv0a1QYU90s7amGjPGEwQ4t8sQxcbvBxrQOFmM8XNmIyQU0svXyoxgGb8b0T7UVnjmTXMN8Gc0IJO7NGH97FwiMMm9CCYFasRJXOAKtgKRO9bHYq7E5NvnhRejeab8U0YNhD_Rv55ewag_4NSVAKQ=w298-h412" width="298" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic; font-size: medium;"><i><b>- Não!... Nunca me casarei contigo. És muito velho e já te falta um parafuso.</b></i></span></div></div><p></p>João de Castelo Brancohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03466237215806923419noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35806898.post-31960747768707012752023-06-26T00:30:00.000+01:002023-06-27T11:15:06.190+01:00São quadras, meu bem... são quadras!...<span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic; font-size: medium;"><b><i>.</i></b></span><div><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic; font-size: medium;"><b><i>Mal de amor, raro se perde<br />É como a nódoa da amora<br />Só com outra amora verde<br />A nódoa se vai embora.</i></b></span></div>João de Castelo Brancohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03466237215806923419noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35806898.post-4625516544569142752023-06-23T00:30:00.048+01:002023-06-23T00:30:00.157+01:00Parabéns!... 23 de Junho<span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic;"><i><b>O mano </b><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>Olímpio</b></span><b> faz anos hoje.</b></i></span><div><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic;"><b><i>Desta vez... um "<span style="font-size: medium;">número redondo</span>".<br /></i></b></span><div><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic;"><b><i><span style="font-size: medium;">Um grande abraço de parabéns</span><br />do <span style="font-size: medium;">irmão Amigo</span></i></b></span></div></div><div><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic;"><b><i>.</i></b></span></div><div><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic;"><b><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_zXq2gEu9OY3GFptVlFu-Dlz0cVVTK8ObSUjY08T6mx6RkgjfTkR2JBB_e_52YsBpKt7xCQzQoApWFV0FNdhEAwEcd5Qj3UXg3BAnTF1UORXnH7gSVwEsefS1Gom-u4LIvpGTmb8Co68a5ViTOBvjvYj6GS_jZEvASlViHakEx1m7MyofnromgA/s400/DSC05903%20copy%20(1).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="400" data-original-width="333" height="376" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_zXq2gEu9OY3GFptVlFu-Dlz0cVVTK8ObSUjY08T6mx6RkgjfTkR2JBB_e_52YsBpKt7xCQzQoApWFV0FNdhEAwEcd5Qj3UXg3BAnTF1UORXnH7gSVwEsefS1Gom-u4LIvpGTmb8Co68a5ViTOBvjvYj6GS_jZEvASlViHakEx1m7MyofnromgA/w313-h376/DSC05903%20copy%20(1).jpg" width="313" /></a></div></b></span><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic; font-size: medium;"><i><b>Eng. Olímpio Mendes de Matos</b></i></span></div><div><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic;"><b><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div></b></span></div>João de Castelo Brancohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03466237215806923419noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35806898.post-88308359722179173042023-06-22T00:30:00.003+01:002023-06-22T15:52:03.554+01:00Há mensagens...<div style="text-align: left;"> ... <span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic;"><b><i>que gostamos de receber.</i></b></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic;"><b><i>.</i></b></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic;"><b><i>Em <span style="font-size: medium;">30 de Junho de 2014</span></i></b></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic;"><b><i>recebi uma mensagem de uma antiga aluna, </i></b></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic; font-size: medium;"><b><i>Ana Cláudia Quintas Estanqueiro.</i></b></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic; font-size: medium;"><b><i>.</i></b></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic;"><b><i>"<span style="font-size: medium;">Para se ser um excelente aluno temos de ter um excelente professor.</span></i></b></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic; font-size: medium;"><b><i>Recordo-me muito bem da suas aulas e agradeço-lhe todos os conhecimentos que me fez o favor de dar.</i></b></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic; font-size: medium;"><b><i>Muito obrigada.</i></b></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic; font-size: medium;"><b><i>Ana Cláudia Quintas Estanqueiro</i></b></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b><i><span style="color: #0c343d;">.</span></i></b></div><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic;"><b><i>Fiz uma breve pesquisa e fui dar com a <span style="font-size: medium;">Ana Cláudia </span>num final de ano lectivo há já "um par de anos"...</i></b></span><div><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic;"><b><i>Pertencia a uma daquelas turmas que, <span style="font-size: medium;">por mais anos que passem, nós nunca iremos esquecer.</span> <span style="font-size: medium;">Dela fazia parte</span> o único aluno a quem durante os meus 41 anos de serviço, dei uma <span style="font-size: medium;">nota final de 20 valores. (l</span>embras-te disso, <span style="font-size: medium;">Nuno Vasconcelos Dias</span>?! Fez há dias 30 anos... )<br />.<br />... Esta foto obtida em 3 de Junho de 1993, <span style="font-size: medium;">no último dia de aulas daquele ano lectivo</span>, na sala 58, onde tínhamos a aula de <span style="font-size: medium;">Biologia do 12ºAno</span>.<br /><br /></i><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjq0PNcXkDPAq8uRTzjs7d1qYzRFZe01KIotTL7wjs29aMbikyhlR6f9egCzOZQo5bcfMGI-w9CnRsjSoept4aq5ZECCRpAXbtF6nJBRWZEPJuNZVGsR_FXbeh3JFyLWefv_3lG8MZUbsn74ovbX7Idr1OOD8n8FfrFxC33veLkPUgQTIfmmQ7vPA/s400/a%2060%201993%2006%2003%2012%C2%BAAno%2015%20Ana%20Cl%C3%A1udia%20e%20Luis%20Miguel.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="400" data-original-width="398" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjq0PNcXkDPAq8uRTzjs7d1qYzRFZe01KIotTL7wjs29aMbikyhlR6f9egCzOZQo5bcfMGI-w9CnRsjSoept4aq5ZECCRpAXbtF6nJBRWZEPJuNZVGsR_FXbeh3JFyLWefv_3lG8MZUbsn74ovbX7Idr1OOD8n8FfrFxC33veLkPUgQTIfmmQ7vPA/s320/a%2060%201993%2006%2003%2012%C2%BAAno%2015%20Ana%20Cl%C3%A1udia%20e%20Luis%20Miguel.jpg" width="318" /></a></div></b></span><b style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic;"><div style="text-align: center;"><b><i>Ana Cláudia Quintas Estanqueiro e</i></b></div><i><div style="text-align: center;"><b><i>Luís Miguel Alves dos Santos.</i></b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b><i>Dois excelentes alunos.</i></b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b><i>.</i></b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b><i><span style="font-size: medium;">Que saudades...</span></i></b></div></i></b></div>João de Castelo Brancohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03466237215806923419noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35806898.post-57115419135681662512023-06-21T00:30:00.001+01:002023-06-21T17:04:49.479+01:00São quadras, meu bem... são quadras!...<div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic; font-size: medium;"><b><i> .</i></b></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><div><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic; font-size: medium;"><b><i>Na noite de Santo António</i></b></span></div><div><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic; font-size: medium;"><b><i>Bem antes do bailarico,</i></b></span></div><div><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic; font-size: medium;"><b><i>Esperei que me oferecesses</i></b></span></div><div><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic; font-size: medium;"><b><i>Um vaso de Manjerico...<span style="white-space: pre;"> </span></i></b></span></div></div>João de Castelo Brancohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03466237215806923419noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35806898.post-53845021907789086662023-06-19T00:30:00.001+01:002023-06-20T16:57:30.315+01:00Foi já na passada 6ºfeira...<div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic;"><b><i> ... dia <span style="font-size: medium;">16 de Junho</span> </i></b></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic;"><b><i>que se realizou o <span style="font-size: medium;">Jantar Comemorativo</span></i></b></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic;"><b><i><span style="font-size: medium;">da Vitória do Campeonato Nacional</span></i></b></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic;"><b><i><span style="font-size: medium;">dos</span></i></b></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic; font-size: large;"><b><i>Benfiquistas</i></b></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic;"><b><i>da</i></b></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic;"><b><i><span style="font-size: large;">Escola Secundária de Bocage </span></i></b></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic;"><b><i> (<span style="font-size: medium;">Liceu Nacional de Setúbal</span>)</i></b></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic;"><b><i>num</i></b></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic;"><b><i>Restaurante da nossa cidade.</i></b></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic;"><b><i><br /></i></b></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic;"><b><i><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjVFrRUgKVLk6y8IXoaXqGPL0E51rtVF0bSqBqNTNnrrhpcpgw6nLZzmjdiuCo13r2_8Z8njFphxJnydmVs7ERwJOPjJVHDNFFckoynIn6lxUZ0BrFMgEHPCc4pt9f-0041LgyBbxZH55It_OSxpmGHN899CCvXEEcwmRDx6aVOrbWv17WveAxgdw" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="6016" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjVFrRUgKVLk6y8IXoaXqGPL0E51rtVF0bSqBqNTNnrrhpcpgw6nLZzmjdiuCo13r2_8Z8njFphxJnydmVs7ERwJOPjJVHDNFFckoynIn6lxUZ0BrFMgEHPCc4pt9f-0041LgyBbxZH55It_OSxpmGHN899CCvXEEcwmRDx6aVOrbWv17WveAxgdw=w361-h240" width="361" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><i>Há uns anos que não festejávamos uma Vitória</i></b></div></i></b></span></div><p style="text-align: center;"><i><img alt="" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="6016" height="248" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhu195boa2UDG85C8DF5lQ5siLiuAeQTS9kBYrGyubAIzx2sCImz_STtNNwO2zb3OwmDkJrmYBsRmfh5055JmaF2ZCGvvCbbwp2oeLsrkWyJQAtR5tLH2ZuxrphAxB2lPA_-zTFqr4x5ElGXr6vfNQWMZGkT9aUYnIItRgi4BoTT6_ZeltGaGfXXg=w373-h248" width="373" /></i></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic;"><b><i>Adoro-te, Benfica..<span style="font-size: medium;">.</span></i></b></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic;"><b><i><span style="font-size: medium;"></span></i></b></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic;"><b><i><span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEicO4bBHgtJcpLcghqKMyW5yxG69NPUzKQD2xkyBkfUlyG3WqFZTjqaaPwtVorR-AW-RavV6F4yDl4qCJQSoATfpGBkDmocwroi3rnj2bnIbWTnCBfP0xaflXAU47lQrHmH2ndxjk8eb5S5i0-myQuNurfWdn77sz9PWaH0_B5E_d-VdyQZwHTMsg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="6016" height="245" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEicO4bBHgtJcpLcghqKMyW5yxG69NPUzKQD2xkyBkfUlyG3WqFZTjqaaPwtVorR-AW-RavV6F4yDl4qCJQSoATfpGBkDmocwroi3rnj2bnIbWTnCBfP0xaflXAU47lQrHmH2ndxjk8eb5S5i0-myQuNurfWdn77sz9PWaH0_B5E_d-VdyQZwHTMsg=w368-h245" width="368" /></a></span></i></b></span></div><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic;"><b><i><span style="font-size: medium;">Benfica, és o melhor...<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiqTdNyt7wVLhtjXjFQpvpwQkBboXiEo6dPN22icrl3mC5wZl2SSx-A-uE4ezCmuonQveMF_NJkbwNioLTpgbkWxhMTZVC18X76mnsqPW3TJNQmY7WsrXHZwXY8HVpjLVGUnz2DjXQgQOZAokeY7_Tj0nzY2Age9SsxszJY1Te7U1-9sx6WEaCgvA" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="6016" height="247" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiqTdNyt7wVLhtjXjFQpvpwQkBboXiEo6dPN22icrl3mC5wZl2SSx-A-uE4ezCmuonQveMF_NJkbwNioLTpgbkWxhMTZVC18X76mnsqPW3TJNQmY7WsrXHZwXY8HVpjLVGUnz2DjXQgQOZAokeY7_Tj0nzY2Age9SsxszJY1Te7U1-9sx6WEaCgvA=w371-h247" width="371" /></a></div>Vivó Benfica!...<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjHnm3Aa02r8JeD5ZD4AnYl5nTiFDzq1OYivMEo6gOt-swImzRysNJru-m45szJlp8hNp-Hauby_G5jiGEV-hHC29ei9YcIbClvoN0-701ka0G0RNgjhK6yokM-wcqrB2jYtfwIvruYfukAzUFlQ7wtc_fEf9PzEcWCV74SWJX1p-OzmcMmdg_lOA" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="6016" height="245" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjHnm3Aa02r8JeD5ZD4AnYl5nTiFDzq1OYivMEo6gOt-swImzRysNJru-m45szJlp8hNp-Hauby_G5jiGEV-hHC29ei9YcIbClvoN0-701ka0G0RNgjhK6yokM-wcqrB2jYtfwIvruYfukAzUFlQ7wtc_fEf9PzEcWCV74SWJX1p-OzmcMmdg_lOA=w369-h245" width="369" /></a></div>...e cá estaremos outra vez para o ano.</span></i></b></span><p></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic;"><b><i><span style="font-size: medium;"></span></i></b></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic;"><b><i><span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiHqWMl-T_sONYkeuW_zSNetpsdL4f1Yk0KotxZ1DtWnBUNVqPIBRJa79Y5qaU9DeYbVgSTgEm-AFShZVTSDXFIB2sO6-sakNpzzSJglvnq6ITIcLPLHlS8v1lq99DBZbZ6IIF7BjtBBnWyuJMHHPX3xMGySmLEEIOSVUNF_KzXq2ArXRN-Wk0VgA" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="6016" height="247" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiHqWMl-T_sONYkeuW_zSNetpsdL4f1Yk0KotxZ1DtWnBUNVqPIBRJa79Y5qaU9DeYbVgSTgEm-AFShZVTSDXFIB2sO6-sakNpzzSJglvnq6ITIcLPLHlS8v1lq99DBZbZ6IIF7BjtBBnWyuJMHHPX3xMGySmLEEIOSVUNF_KzXq2ArXRN-Wk0VgA=w371-h247" width="371" /></a></span></i></b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic;"><b><i><span style="font-size: medium;">Haja alegria...</span></i></b></span></div><p></p><p style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhi7pIZ0twvT4aeY1DWCiMIyqQZbQKaDj033d-lVYxaQon2KZBXdyYTr3eXL0oVTLWhZHrm7tEKmpAR0fWs5mk_ioBBUkxyBuT7Yq7EwpWGLsM4r54kb1JYb7NylsLRgq-xCwyVivv37Awd8Mr9-uL7KhwGWmP5d-11O60StVGPm0xGAtTCJng8Dw" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="6016" height="253" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhi7pIZ0twvT4aeY1DWCiMIyqQZbQKaDj033d-lVYxaQon2KZBXdyYTr3eXL0oVTLWhZHrm7tEKmpAR0fWs5mk_ioBBUkxyBuT7Yq7EwpWGLsM4r54kb1JYb7NylsLRgq-xCwyVivv37Awd8Mr9-uL7KhwGWmP5d-11O60StVGPm0xGAtTCJng8Dw=w381-h253" width="381" /></a></p><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic;"><b><i>Já não estão todos mas já houve </i></b></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic;"><b><i><span style="font-size: medium;">Reuniões de Vitória</span> com muito mais gente.</i></b></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic; font-size: medium;"><b><i><br /></i></b></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic; font-size: medium;"><b><i>Setúbal,</i></b></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic; font-size: medium;"><b><i>em 16 de Junho </i></b></span></div>João de Castelo Brancohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03466237215806923419noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35806898.post-41213404140826301702023-06-18T15:00:00.016+01:002023-06-18T16:34:35.868+01:00Por mero acaso...<div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic; font-size: medium;"><b><i> ... voltei a ver esta manhã quando passei os olhos pelo jornal "Público" </i></b></span><span style="font-size: medium;"><b style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic;"><i>um pequeno "anuncio" evocativo de um Bom Amigo que encontrei no </i></b><b style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic;"><i>Liceu de Pedro Nunes quando ali fiz o meu Estágio Pedagógico, em 1962/64. </i></b></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic; font-size: medium;"><b><i>O Dr. Evaristo Guedes Vieira permanece ainda vivo, na "minha memória".</i></b></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic; font-size: medium;"><b><i>.</i></b></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic;"><b><i>Em memória de</i></b></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic;"><b><i>EVERISTO GUEDES VIEIRA</i></b></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic;"><b><i>(26-1-1909 // 18-6-1979)</i></b></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic;"><b><i>Deus omnipotente, de Ti procedem todos os bons pensamentos</i></b></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic;"><b><i>e acções. Louvamos-Te pele vida deste Teu filho, pelo seu</i></b></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic;"><b><i>serviço ao próximo e pelos seus muitos actos de generosidade;</i></b></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic;"><b><i>agradecemos-Te pelo seu exemplo e confiamo-lo ao Teu amor.</i></b></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic;"><b><i>Mediante Jesus Cristo, nosso Senhor. Ámen.</i></b></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic; font-size: medium;"><b><i>.</i></b></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic; font-size: medium;"><b><i>Faz hoje 44 anos que faleceu o</i></b></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic; font-size: medium;"><b><i>Dr. Evaristo Guedes Vieira</i></b></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic;"><b><i>Prof. <span style="font-size: medium;">Metodólogo</span>, na área da Geografia</i></b></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzujWvlaVaUdW0NkFlH9NrrvbZEK1UVrVwmINyp2uO8UpsRl-pwq8hXrWLsTbHKpk-wpr73tt3UqQvBFTBzEf7rslqRmptpfJ1Q4hopcbFMAWPgCiyb43TMjzn3vZ4Knb35R0cy_lS6Ok6zHG_edmehEq4hcOsRcEbHrbfsoYr8w8MAi5luXw/s579/1964%2004%2001%20Dr.Evaristo%20Vieira%201%20(1).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="486" data-original-width="579" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzujWvlaVaUdW0NkFlH9NrrvbZEK1UVrVwmINyp2uO8UpsRl-pwq8hXrWLsTbHKpk-wpr73tt3UqQvBFTBzEf7rslqRmptpfJ1Q4hopcbFMAWPgCiyb43TMjzn3vZ4Knb35R0cy_lS6Ok6zHG_edmehEq4hcOsRcEbHrbfsoYr8w8MAi5luXw/w254-h214/1964%2004%2001%20Dr.Evaristo%20Vieira%201%20(1).jpg" width="254" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic;"><b><i>Dr.Evaristo Guedes Vieira</i></b></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic;"><b><i>com os estagiários Figueira de Freitas, jjmatos, Salomé Pais</i></b></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic;"><b><i>e a Dr.ª Magda Moscoso Botelho</i></b></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic;"><b><i>(em Abril/64)</i></b></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic; font-size: x-small;"><b><i>.</i></b></span></div></div></div>João de Castelo Brancohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03466237215806923419noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35806898.post-8059985550895053322023-06-18T00:30:00.000+01:002023-06-18T00:30:00.144+01:00Em 2 de abril de 1973...<p></p><div style="line-height: 14.55pt; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left;"><b><span style="color: #0c343d;"><span style="font-family: Basic;">Um grupo de amigos do "<i><span style="font-size: medium;">Café
Central</span></i>" </span></span></b></div><div style="line-height: 14.55pt; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left;"><b><span style="color: #0c343d;"><span style="font-family: Basic;">reuniu-se em <i><span style="font-size: medium;">Tróia</span></i> para desfrutar </span></span></b></div><div style="line-height: 14.55pt; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Basic;"><b><span style="color: #0c343d;">um almoço </span></b><b><span style="color: #0c343d;">no <i><span style="font-size: medium;">Restaurante da Torralta</span>, </i></span></b></span></div><div style="line-height: 14.55pt; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left;"><b><span style="color: #0c343d;"><i><span style="font-family: Basic;">há pouco tempo inaugurado.</span></i></span></b></div><div style="line-height: 14.55pt; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left;"><b><span style="color: #0c343d;"><i><span style="font-family: Basic;"><br /></span></i></span></b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgi7A2_6EUsr6fzI5iToWIaKZaQLljOsJYfWw1-M_fBQHH0W5B9NGUCEk30pbLCBbMMiFEUM0i3flzbSMwvlJccgQNOMhQNNH8RVDQy0y8h5y6nwCN6IrIcdb74OGn3qrB-rIZcyUadvN3F7b7ZsiQWdt0gtPMjmci9Ol5Jd4EfEZ3aZWUQ_Ek" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Basic;"><img alt="" data-original-height="406" data-original-width="625" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgi7A2_6EUsr6fzI5iToWIaKZaQLljOsJYfWw1-M_fBQHH0W5B9NGUCEk30pbLCBbMMiFEUM0i3flzbSMwvlJccgQNOMhQNNH8RVDQy0y8h5y6nwCN6IrIcdb74OGn3qrB-rIZcyUadvN3F7b7ZsiQWdt0gtPMjmci9Ol5Jd4EfEZ3aZWUQ_Ek=w368-h240" width="368" /></span></a></div></div><p></p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.55pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Basic;"><b><span style="color: #0c343d;">Fazendo
horas para o "<i>repasto</i>" podemos identificar, da esquerda para a
direita, </span></b><b><span style="color: #0c343d;">o <i><span style="font-size: medium;">Manuel Floriano</span></i>, o <span style="font-size: medium;">Sr. <i>Joaquim
Oliveira</i></span>, do BNU, o <i><span style="font-size: medium;">Luís Filipe Gomes</span> (em primeiro plano)</i>, o <i><span style="font-size: medium;">jjmatos</span></i>, o
<span style="font-size: medium;">Eng. </span><i><span style="font-size: medium;">Noronha</span> </i>e o <span style="font-size: medium;">Sr. <i>Rogélio Gonçalves</i></span>, do Banco de Portugal.</span></b><span style="color: #333333;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.55pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: center;"><b><span style="color: #0c343d;"><span style="font-family: Basic;">Entretanto
passaram <span style="font-size: large;">50<i> anos</i> </span>e apenas eu por cá ando ainda...</span></span></b></p>João de Castelo Brancohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03466237215806923419noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35806898.post-41757209112979003352023-06-17T10:00:00.245+01:002023-06-18T18:06:03.283+01:00Uma notícia que me deixou triste...<div style="text-align: left;"><i style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic;"><b>...e que vi na página da "<span style="font-size: medium;">Necrologia</span>", </b></i></div><div><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic;"><i><b>que esta manhã apareceu no "<span style="font-size: medium;">Público</span>".</b></i></span></div><div><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic;"><i><b>.</b></i></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlUj910Y6PcmyHJaS-CADQQCoYTAFFdhLC4Mr6AhB5P1TP5uDZSyNNN5vy9cW7KD0jN7TTYrhZs7Bz5xdCPUAm8Z4swXPI8WG52JN-hobk1Mxm8C4uSTwjcvOg8xOXPJPMgIpoiPPSVdmxBKmR3J45uTHGwqgtc_Je08zv01a0ZzG4CgV2N5Q/s5422/DSC_1593.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="5422" data-original-width="2554" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlUj910Y6PcmyHJaS-CADQQCoYTAFFdhLC4Mr6AhB5P1TP5uDZSyNNN5vy9cW7KD0jN7TTYrhZs7Bz5xdCPUAm8Z4swXPI8WG52JN-hobk1Mxm8C4uSTwjcvOg8xOXPJPMgIpoiPPSVdmxBKmR3J45uTHGwqgtc_Je08zv01a0ZzG4CgV2N5Q/s320/DSC_1593.JPG" width="151" /></a></div>.<div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic;"><i><b>Com um rosto que não se presta a confusões</b></i></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic;"><i><b>acabo de ter conhecimento da morte de</b></i></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic; font-size: large;"><i><b>Maria José Mendes Ribeiro,</b></i></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic;"><i><b>aluna de que me recordo de pertencer ao </b></i></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic;"><i><b><span style="font-size: large;">Curso de Farmácia de 1953/56,</span> na</b></i></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic;"><i><b><span style="font-size: large;">Escola Superior de Farmácia,</span> em Lisboa,</b></i></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic;"><i><b>colega da <span style="font-size: medium;">Maria de Lurdes Macedo </span>e da <span style="font-size: medium;">Zezinha Folgado Pereira.</span></b></i></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic; font-size: medium;"><i><b>.</b></i></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic;"><i><b>Creio que era </b></i></span><i style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic;"><b>filha do <span style="font-size: medium;">Prof. Mendes Ribeiro</span></b></i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic; font-size: medium;"><i><b>da Escola Superior de Farmácia de Lisboa</b></i></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic; font-size: medium;"><i><b>e foi Director da mesma Escola.</b></i></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic;"><i><b>.</b></i></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic; font-size: medium;"><b><i>Deixo aqui a caricatura que a identifica no </i></b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic; font-size: large;"><b><i>Livro de Curso, de 1953/56 </i></b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic;"><b><i><span style="font-size: medium;">Na </span><span style="font-size: large;">Escola Superior de Farmácia,</span><span style="font-size: medium;"> em Lisboa.</span></i></b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0zFpjhdeUDvm67tzwm0C6A6NJmgUApDgkNaMjrb-HDve4ACi3SjDb5XzvgaZflJj6OhORKY4DDmIPYoWSKfDeJzrHr-VW-BmJCCHLCHEwNHq3Xbg8zw7fbGOuGidH9OD4FLOtRfVaoVgJMRTsMdSEpJBOHyg70mv-42zCP3b_tMtClGPb2_U/s4861/DSC_1594.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Basic;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4861" data-original-width="3000" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0zFpjhdeUDvm67tzwm0C6A6NJmgUApDgkNaMjrb-HDve4ACi3SjDb5XzvgaZflJj6OhORKY4DDmIPYoWSKfDeJzrHr-VW-BmJCCHLCHEwNHq3Xbg8zw7fbGOuGidH9OD4FLOtRfVaoVgJMRTsMdSEpJBOHyg70mv-42zCP3b_tMtClGPb2_U/s320/DSC_1594.JPG" width="197" /></span></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic; font-size: medium;"><b>Maria José de Queiroz Veloso Mendes Ribeiro.</b></span></i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;">(</span>finalista na <span style="font-size: large;">Escola Superior de Farmácia</span> em Lisboa)</b></span></i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #0c343d;">.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;">Fez a </span><span style="font-size: large;"><i>Licenciatura na Faculdade de Farmácia </i></span></b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic; font-size: large;"><b><i> da Universidade do Porto</i></b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhLaiLiazRwJlhKDoYR1kP0GxG10aRb3HTbXM2y3x7jWHfnRUAJ30_zqxay5fEqnm98CpgMbJw41WVjbVNknBwkhY9GvRUJj5rgtdo07EpnkwdPNIqHBVIAPh3p0radBUicfrhTE8VZmP79tm2IuintvzOTXxvIZsw_J8fNtba9qMPM03Vji8/s5118/DSC_1596.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="5118" data-original-width="3453" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhLaiLiazRwJlhKDoYR1kP0GxG10aRb3HTbXM2y3x7jWHfnRUAJ30_zqxay5fEqnm98CpgMbJw41WVjbVNknBwkhY9GvRUJj5rgtdo07EpnkwdPNIqHBVIAPh3p0radBUicfrhTE8VZmP79tm2IuintvzOTXxvIZsw_J8fNtba9qMPM03Vji8/s320/DSC_1596.JPG" width="216" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic; font-size: medium;"><i><b>Maria José de Queiroz Veloso Mendes Ribeiro.</b></i></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic;"><i><b><span style="font-size: medium;">(finalista na </span><span style="font-size: large;">Faculdade de Farmácia da Universidade</span><span style="font-size: medium;"> do Porto, em 1958)</span></b></i></span><span style="color: #0c343d; text-align: left;">.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic; font-size: medium;"><b>(numa caricatura do Livro de Curso de 1958)</b></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic; font-size: medium;"><b><br /></b></span></span></div></div></div></div><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0 0 0 40px; padding: 0px;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic; font-size: large;"><i><b>Que descanse em paz.</b></i></span></div></div></div></blockquote>João de Castelo Brancohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03466237215806923419noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35806898.post-76071822901159087312023-06-17T00:30:00.001+01:002023-06-17T00:30:00.141+01:00Os insultos de João Galamba...<span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic;"><b><i><br /><span style="font-size: medium;"> .. "a Educação bebe-se nos dois primeiros anos de vida nas mamas das nossas Mães "Ouvi esta frase em </span><span style="font-size: large;">Outubro de 1959, </span><br /><span style="font-size: medium;">na </span><span style="font-size: large;">Sessão Solene </span><span style="font-size: medium;">da abertura das aulas, </span><br /><span style="font-size: medium;">no nosso </span><span style="font-size: large;">Liceu Nacional de Setúbal.</span><br /><span style="font-size: medium;">.</span><br /><span style="font-size: medium;">Foi proferida por um </span><span style="font-size: large;">Homem</span><span style="font-size: medium;"> daqueles que fazem muita falta actualmente,</span><br /><span style="font-size: medium;">o </span><span style="font-size: large;">Reitor José de Mendonça e Costa.</span><br /><span style="font-size: medium;">.</span><br /><span style="font-size: medium;">E lembrei-me dela ao ler o artigo que o jornalista</span><br /><span style="font-size: large;"> João Miguel Tavares</span><br /><span style="font-size: medium;">escreveu nesta manhã de Sábado.</span><br /><span style="font-size: medium;">na sua coluna</span><br /><span style="font-size: medium;">"</span><span style="font-size: large;">O respeitinho é muito bonito"<span style="background-color: #eeeecc;">. (*)</span></span></i></b></span><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-LzVEACVVuQg/Xy7Mz72EcpI/AAAAAAAAyjA/RLufglqpjWUqrLJqaNOOTXfsdVuCiUygQCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/Jo_o%2BMiguel%2BTavares%2B1%255B1%255D.jpg"><img border="0" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-LzVEACVVuQg/Xy7Mz72EcpI/AAAAAAAAyjA/RLufglqpjWUqrLJqaNOOTXfsdVuCiUygQCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/Jo_o%2BMiguel%2BTavares%2B1%255B1%255D.jpg" /></a></div><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic;"><div style="font-size: large; text-align: center;"><b><i>João Miguel Tavares</i></b></div><b><i><span style="font-size: medium;">.</span><br /><span style="font-size: medium;">Hoje, esta coluna tem por título:</span><br /><span style="font-size: medium;">"</span><span style="font-size: large;">Os insultos de secretário de Estado João Galamba</span><span style="font-size: medium;">"</span><br /><span style="font-size: medium;">.</span><br /><span style="font-size: medium;">E deixo aqui o seu trabalho escrito:</span><br /><span style="font-size: medium;">"Numa entrevista ao Expresso, em Dezembro de 2017, o secretário de Estado da Energia </span><span style="font-size: large;">João Galamba </span><span style="font-size: medium;">admitiu que gostava de </span><span style="font-size: large;">"malhar, desmontar e combater argumentos"</span><span style="font-size: medium;"> com os quais discordava, mas recusava-se a ser </span><span style="font-size: large;">"um trauliteiro" </span><span style="font-size: medium;">porque "</span><span style="font-size: large;">um trauliteiro é alguém que dá pancada por dar pancada</span><span style="font-size: medium;">", enquanto ele procurava "</span><span style="font-size: large;">fundamentar sempre" </span><span style="font-size: medium;">as suas opiniões. E, no entanto, </span><span style="font-size: large;">foi este mesmo João Galamba </span><span style="font-size: medium;">quem na semana passada classificou uma entrevista à SIC Notícias de </span><span style="font-size: large;">Clemente Pedro Nunes,</span><span style="font-size: medium;"> engenheiro químico, especialista em energia e </span><span style="font-size: large;">professor jubilado</span><span style="font-size: medium;"> do I</span><span style="font-size: large;">nstituto Superior Técnico</span><span style="font-size: medium;">, deste modo: "</span><span style="font-size: large;">É um aldrabão e um mentiroso do pior. Não há outra forma de descrever esse cavalheiro. Chama-se Clemente Pedro Nunes e é um aldrabão encartado." (**)</span><br /><span style="font-size: medium;">.</span></i></b></span><div><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic;"><i><span style="font-size: medium; font-weight: bold;">P</span><span style="font-size: large; font-weight: bold;">ara quem recusa o rótulo de "trauliteiro", não está mal.</span><b><span style="font-size: medium;"> O secretário de Estado fez estas afirmações na sua conta pessoal do Twitter, achando talvez que ainda estava nos tempos em que escrevia no blogue Jugular ou que passava informações ao "Miguel Abrantes" da Câmara Corporativa. </span><span style="font-size: large;">São declarações absolutamente inaceitáveis</span><span style="font-size: medium;">, </span><span style="font-size: large;">e num país mais exigente com o comportamento dos seus governantes ele estaria no dia seguinte no olho da rua. </span><span style="font-size: medium;">Mas para além do insulto descarado, </span><span style="font-size: large;">essas declarações importam sobretudo enquanto método de impor um pensamento único á </span></b><span style="font-size: large; font-weight: bold;">sociedade portuguesa,</span><span style="font-size: medium; font-weight: bold;"> que era típico dos tempos de José Sócrates, e que Galamba procura agora emular a propósito da chamada "Estratégia Nacional para o Hidrogénio", em cima da qual</span><span style="font-size: large; font-weight: bold;"> o Governo tem vindo a colocar números gargantuescos, sempre na casa dos vários milhares de milhões de euros.</span><br /><span style="font-size: medium; font-weight: bold;">O próprio João Galamba classificou o investimento no hidrogénio verde de Sines como o "maior projecto industrial desde o 25 de Abril": </span><span style="font-size: large; font-weight: bold;">ridicularizar e insultar quem se atreve a pensar de forma diferente e a questionar a racionalidade da Estratégia para o Hidrogénio. </span><span style="font-size: medium; font-weight: bold;">Foi isso que Clemente Pedro Nunes se limitou a fazer, com argumentos que, se estiverem certos, são bons de ouvir e, se estiverem errados, são fáceis de rebater. Infelizmente, Galamba preferiu a terceira via: </span><span style="font-size: large; font-weight: bold;">quem não pensa como eu ou é burro ou mal-intencionado.</span><br /><span style="font-size: medium; font-weight: bold;">O problema é este: </span><span style="font-size: large; font-weight: bold;">cada um de nós arrasta consigo o seu passado e não nasce de novo a cada dia.</span><span style="font-size: medium; font-weight: bold;"> O secretário de Estado </span><span style="font-size: large; font-weight: bold;">pode agora usar um fatinho muito aprumado</span><span style="font-size: medium; font-weight: bold;">, mas é o</span><span style="font-size: large; font-weight: bold;"> mesmo João Galamba de 2009 e 2010.</span><span style="font-size: medium; font-weight: bold;"> Esse Galamba </span><span style="font-size: large; font-weight: bold;">e</span><span style="font-size: large; font-weight: bold;">ra um adepto fervoroso de José Sócrates </span><span style="font-size: medium; font-weight: bold;">e do seu estilo e, na sua ferocidade argumentativa, </span><span style="font-size: large; font-weight: bold;">continua a imitá-lo como ninguém.</span><span style="font-size: medium; font-weight: bold;"> Quem tem ouvido sensível aos desmandos da época escuta frases como "o hidrogénio pode ser caro, pode haver incertezas tecnológicas, mas há um elemento que é o custo de não fazer nada" e Sócrates vintage -- e todos sabemos aonde nos conduziu.</span><br /><span style="font-size: medium; font-weight: bold;">Convém notar ainda que </span><span style="font-size: large; font-weight: bold;">João Galamba não tinha qualquer experiência no sector e aprendeu tudo o que sabe sobre energia em ano e meio. </span><span style="font-size: medium; font-weight: bold;">São demasiadas certezas para tão pouco tempo. Deixem-me ser muito claro: </span><span style="font-size: large;"><b>o curriculo de João Galamba e o currículo do PS recomendam a maior desconfiança em relação à Estratégia Nacional para o Hidrogénio. É possivel que seja uma ideia espetacular? É possivel.</b></span><span style="font-size: medium; font-weight: bold;"> Mas é bastante mais provável que seja, como de costume, </span><span style="font-size: large; font-weight: bold;">um monumental frete à EDP e às empreses do regime.</span><br /><span style="font-size: medium; font-weight: bold;">E vão por mim: </span><span style="font-size: large; font-weight: bold;">q</span><span style="font-size: large; font-weight: bold;">uanto mais trauliteiro João Galamba for, mais essa probabilidade aumenta.</span><br /><span style="font-size: medium; font-weight: bold;">.</span></i></span></div><div><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic;"><i><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>Este texto surgiu n</b></span><span style="font-size: medium; font-weight: bold;">o Público,</span><br /><span style="font-size: medium; font-weight: bold;">em </span><span style="font-size: large; font-weight: bold;">8 de Agosto de 2020.</span><br /><span style="font-size: medium; font-weight: bold;">assinado por </span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">João Miguel Tavares.</span></span></i></span></div><div><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic;"><i><span style="font-size: large;"><b>(mas é altura de o relembrar...)<br /></b><span style="font-weight: bold;">.</span></span><br /><span style="font-size: medium; font-weight: bold;">NB</span></i></span></div><div><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic;"><i><span style="font-size: medium; font-weight: bold;"></span><b><span style="font-size: medium;">(*) - Este artigo foi escrito no "</span><span style="font-size: large;">Público</span><span style="font-size: medium;">" em </span><span style="font-size: large;">8 de Agosto de 2020</span><br /></b><span style="font-size: medium; font-weight: bold;">(**)- </span><span style="font-size: large; font-weight: bold;">F</span><span style="font-size: large; font-weight: bold;">ica provado que o "trauliteiro João Galamba "não </span></i></span><span style="font-size: large;"><i style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">mamou" </span><span style="font-weight: bold;">quando era pequeno.</span></i><i style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"> </span></i></span></div>João de Castelo Brancohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03466237215806923419noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35806898.post-20343932366568335172023-06-16T14:00:00.005+01:002023-06-16T18:06:24.918+01:00Ao fim de alguns anos...<div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #0c343d;"><span style="font-family: Basic; font-size: medium;"> ... os "</span><span style="font-family: Basic; font-size: medium;"><b><i>Benfiquistas</i></b></span><span style="font-family: Basic; font-size: medium;">" do </span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic; font-size: medium;"><b><i> Liceu Nacional de Setúbal</i></b></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic;"><span style="font-size: medium;">(</span><i>agora<b> <span style="font-size: medium;">Escola Secundária de Bocage</span></b></i><span style="font-size: medium;">)</span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic; font-size: medium;">. </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic; font-size: medium;">Voltam a reunir-se num </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic; font-size: medium;"><b><i>Jantar Comemorativo </i></b></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic; font-size: medium;">como </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic; font-size: medium;"><b><i>Vencedores </i></b></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic; font-size: medium;">do </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic; font-size: medium;"><i><b>Campeonato Nacional.</b></i></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic; font-size: medium;">.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic; font-size: medium;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiYgGixflVdSgy9jliJEQfSSQDLLCTgV7kk9Encqc0jTSPa8S_OiseVeWi9S7U3GI1fRghjZE_U1otOuiSelHz5TmDeMtHojmYeXPErNzF886ZKbYqYUVGAFJfug8enj09UP2GL5gS8KTICmNfcJqfxeBzha7bdilUuRBXkn3Rxpr1y5Co9wrE" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="2609" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiYgGixflVdSgy9jliJEQfSSQDLLCTgV7kk9Encqc0jTSPa8S_OiseVeWi9S7U3GI1fRghjZE_U1otOuiSelHz5TmDeMtHojmYeXPErNzF886ZKbYqYUVGAFJfug8enj09UP2GL5gS8KTICmNfcJqfxeBzha7bdilUuRBXkn3Rxpr1y5Co9wrE" width="157" /></a></div><b><i>Vivó Benfica!...</i></b><br /></span></div>João de Castelo Brancohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03466237215806923419noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35806898.post-2342347792860677002023-06-14T09:00:00.001+01:002023-06-14T19:46:26.988+01:00Mas que calor...<div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic;"><b><i> ...<span style="font-size: medium;">num desenho que</span></i></b></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic;"><b><i> <span style="font-size: large;">Bosch Penalva</span></i></b></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic;"><b><i>publicou no <span style="font-size: medium;">Verão de 1960</span></i></b></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic;"><b><i>.</i></b></span></div><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCcIApyZMCcfYYtbTnWf-mydExmMgvo90abliePtYEbyox2pAr74R072GIE6Mee6pTklo589MiCJZNwkCitrGmQls2CEBJAolYNqdfbz2sHs19Tq0Si_N490BRIQo0Tii3H3aZCqsqzJPfGFwNYso7s4QL7vrOg3mUVhLOxBD77k8Pb8kdCrI/s400/Cancan%2030%201.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Basic;"><b><i><img border="0" data-original-height="400" data-original-width="153" height="498" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCcIApyZMCcfYYtbTnWf-mydExmMgvo90abliePtYEbyox2pAr74R072GIE6Mee6pTklo589MiCJZNwkCitrGmQls2CEBJAolYNqdfbz2sHs19Tq0Si_N490BRIQo0Tii3H3aZCqsqzJPfGFwNYso7s4QL7vrOg3mUVhLOxBD77k8Pb8kdCrI/w190-h498/Cancan%2030%201.jpg" width="190" /></i></b></span></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic; font-size: medium;"><b><i>...na revista Can-Can</i></b></span></div><p></p>João de Castelo Brancohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03466237215806923419noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35806898.post-37854992661766282622023-06-13T00:30:00.012+01:002023-06-13T00:30:00.157+01:00São quadras, meu bem... são quadras!... <span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic; font-size: medium;"><i><b>.</b></i></span><div><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic; font-size: medium;"><i><b>Oh! Meu rico Santo António<br />Meu santinho milagreiro<br />Faz com que este Governo<br />Não me roube mais dinheiro...</b></i></span></div>João de Castelo Brancohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03466237215806923419noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35806898.post-20222911719519903382023-06-11T00:30:00.034+01:002023-06-11T00:30:00.151+01:00Humor antigo...<div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic;"><b><i> ...com o traço</i></b></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic;"><b><i>de</i> <i><span style="font-size: large;">Don Flowers</span></i></b></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic;"><b><i>.</i></b></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic;"><b><i><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUHI2hxVzGxFjxO9vuJBv9bnXs-uCxxbDYI1aPg1ArAgiNSA2hLTAyUcwODM_myoY1PwdNSlgZBOqOeOqn90H_EPzj_0PWVGZuI-BQiSCpEqOFKrKFyLT4J4nAvg9nQyUV0qyEK8krH4PPbWp2Nj8gusQVNrbicylaV2Uhdo6HGhC6E69ENMc/s400/O%20Mundo%20ri%20%20n%C2%BA%20092%2003%20(1).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="399" data-original-width="400" height="378" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUHI2hxVzGxFjxO9vuJBv9bnXs-uCxxbDYI1aPg1ArAgiNSA2hLTAyUcwODM_myoY1PwdNSlgZBOqOeOqn90H_EPzj_0PWVGZuI-BQiSCpEqOFKrKFyLT4J4nAvg9nQyUV0qyEK8krH4PPbWp2Nj8gusQVNrbicylaV2Uhdo6HGhC6E69ENMc/w379-h378/O%20Mundo%20ri%20%20n%C2%BA%20092%2003%20(1).jpg" width="379" /></a></div></i></b></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic; font-size: medium;"><i><b>- O sr. Dr. acha que para me fazer a psicanálise<br />tenho de lhe contar todos os pensamentos?</b></i></span></div></div>João de Castelo Brancohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03466237215806923419noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35806898.post-4752344816139663512023-06-10T00:30:00.037+01:002023-06-10T09:52:53.359+01:00Recordações...<div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic; font-size: medium;"><i><b> Agosto de 1982</b></i></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic; font-size: medium;"><i><b> em Setúbal</b></i></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic; font-size: medium;"><i><b>.</b></i></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGNrgzkAVKufbMACNdMSo_fybmdgno2mIsfuS8cozkBb8eucZ4A-VchxokgWs6x908ke6VnnmnbJ47W98whB3dadCWhaLN1rOYgcIYiVnXZfvXavSWTKsWiZ-_cMnG2HMTeunJo40ejlJQQ3ObBGcBvXvecnZsxHpOqQcf-h0OmJAxFvwI1p4/s1600/1992%2008%2002%2012%20copy%20a.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1044" height="465" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGNrgzkAVKufbMACNdMSo_fybmdgno2mIsfuS8cozkBb8eucZ4A-VchxokgWs6x908ke6VnnmnbJ47W98whB3dadCWhaLN1rOYgcIYiVnXZfvXavSWTKsWiZ-_cMnG2HMTeunJo40ejlJQQ3ObBGcBvXvecnZsxHpOqQcf-h0OmJAxFvwI1p4/w304-h465/1992%2008%2002%2012%20copy%20a.jpg" width="304" /></a></div><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic;"><i><b><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-size: x-large;"> </span><span style="font-size: large;">GI</span></b></i></span>João de Castelo Brancohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03466237215806923419noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35806898.post-51206832854151187132023-06-09T09:30:00.001+01:002023-06-10T09:23:26.799+01:00Foi António Nobre...<div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic; font-size: medium;"><i><b> ...quem escreveu o Soneto</b></i></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic; font-size: x-large;"><b><i>Ao cair das folhas</i></b></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #0c343d;"><i><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: Basic; font-weight: bold;">que dedicou à sua irmã </span><span style="font-family: arial;"><b>Maria da Glória</b></span></span></i></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic;"><b><i>.</i></b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbfEp_9sBQ1hFFGza41vvG7yhfyG_xzhUcC9c_oHQMlFo0h5XQ7qHuQk5hXMJDvCzAsaDIWcjsJQtgPo23RYZU4fvOcjYZzrNxZp0xxaBjDHsZnJhOnvGpCTuyrnkVMdHtlPShm8kIksrVU715t_PfsbcSJsQcXNHXPGcdIWLux_B_j5eH0ME/s271/descarregar%20(4).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="271" data-original-width="186" height="271" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbfEp_9sBQ1hFFGza41vvG7yhfyG_xzhUcC9c_oHQMlFo0h5XQ7qHuQk5hXMJDvCzAsaDIWcjsJQtgPo23RYZU4fvOcjYZzrNxZp0xxaBjDHsZnJhOnvGpCTuyrnkVMdHtlPShm8kIksrVU715t_PfsbcSJsQcXNHXPGcdIWLux_B_j5eH0ME/s1600/descarregar%20(4).jpg" width="186" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic; font-size: medium;"><i><b>António Nobre</b></i></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic;"><i><b><span style="font-size: medium;">(</span>1867-1900<span style="font-size: medium;">)</span></b></i></span></div><div><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic; font-size: medium;"><i><b>.</b></i></span></div><div><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic; font-size: medium;"><i><b>Ao cair das folhas.</b></i></span></div><div><br /></div><div><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic; font-size: medium;"><i><b>Pudessem suas mãos cobrir meu rosto,</b></i></span></div><div><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic; font-size: medium;"><i><b>Fechar-me os olhos e compor-me o leito,</b></i></span></div><div><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic; font-size: medium;"><i><b>Quando, sequinho, as mãos em cruz no peito,</b></i></span></div><div><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic; font-size: medium;"><i><b>Eu me for viajar para o Sol-posto.</b></i></span></div><div><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic; font-size: medium;"><i><b><br /></b></i></span></div><div><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic; font-size: medium;"><i><b>De modo que me faça bom encosto,</b></i></span></div><div><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic; font-size: medium;"><i><b>O travesseiro comporá com jeito.</b></i></span></div><div><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic; font-size: medium;"><i><b>E eu tão feliz! por não estar afeito,</b></i></span></div><div><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic; font-size: medium;"><i><b>Hei-de sorrir, Senhor! quase com gosto.</b></i></span></div><div><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic; font-size: medium;"><i><b><br /></b></i></span></div><div><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic; font-size: medium;"><i><b>Até com gosto, sim! Que faz quem vive</b></i></span></div><div><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic; font-size: medium;"><i><b>Órfão de mimos, viúvo de esperanças,</b></i></span></div><div><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic; font-size: medium;"><i><b>Solteiro de venturas, que não tive?</b></i></span></div><div><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic; font-size: medium;"><i><b><br /></b></i></span></div><div><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic; font-size: medium;"><i><b>Assim, irei dormir com as crianças</b></i></span></div><div><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic; font-size: medium;"><i><b>Quase como elas, quase sem pecados...</b></i></span></div><div><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic; font-size: medium;"><i><b>E acabarão em fim os meus cuidados.</b></i></span></div><div><br /></div><div><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic; font-size: medium;"><i><b>Clavadel, Outubro, 1895,</b></i></span></div><div><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic; font-size: medium;"><i><b>.</b></i></span></div><div><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic; font-size: medium;"><i><b>in. Antologia Pessoal da Poesia Portuguesa,</b></i></span></div><div><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic; font-size: medium;"><i><b>de Eugénio de Andrade.</b></i></span></div>João de Castelo Brancohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03466237215806923419noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35806898.post-1114069204699443402023-06-07T09:30:00.001+01:002023-06-07T10:12:34.699+01:00Hoje, no "Público"...<div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic; font-size: medium;"><i><b> ... num artigo denominado</b></i></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic; font-size: large;"><i><b>"A escola dos ricos e a escola dos pobres"</b></i></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic; font-size: medium;"><i><b>escrito por </b></i></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic; font-size: large;"><i><b>Santana Castilho</b></i></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYC3oNp4jNKyv-e4VYshi9fg3bw_UG3gDW0cnLGK8LcSNa1jlziIpuQGpmfpc_thTpS9Wz_VyHgTY_Phj_iHWrwxuA828RpYycsFZYX1ZITM9hN_mf2VTQDqFCXpIyaYTyZq9Hzj2I2J2tVvL5nFaZejSLHKXkxaoVZKedecl2Vhvg1fPZbTg/s225/descarregar%20(15).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic; font-size: medium;"><i><b><img border="0" data-original-height="225" data-original-width="225" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYC3oNp4jNKyv-e4VYshi9fg3bw_UG3gDW0cnLGK8LcSNa1jlziIpuQGpmfpc_thTpS9Wz_VyHgTY_Phj_iHWrwxuA828RpYycsFZYX1ZITM9hN_mf2VTQDqFCXpIyaYTyZq9Hzj2I2J2tVvL5nFaZejSLHKXkxaoVZKedecl2Vhvg1fPZbTg/s1600/descarregar%20(15).jpg" width="225" /></b></i></span></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic; font-size: medium;"><i><b>Santana Castilho</b></i></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic; font-size: medium;"><i><b>.</b></i></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic; font-size: medium;"><i><b>(...)</b></i></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic; font-size: medium;"><i><b>"Poderá a educação continuar sob a tutela de um ministro que desconhece o que se conhece? Que não faz? Que desfaz? Que sonega? Que manipula? Que mente? Que dificulta?</b></i></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic; font-size: medium;"><i><b>(...)</b></i></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic;"><i><b><span style="font-size: medium;">Consequentemente ,vão-se construindo em Portugal duas vias de ensino: </span><span style="font-size: large;">uma privada, para elites</span><span style="font-size: medium;">, alicerçada na tessitura dos saberes clássicos com as novas tecnologias e no estudo estruturado das Humanidades, das Ciências, das Línguas e das Artes; </span><span style="font-size: large;">outra, pública, dita inclusiva, para o povo pobre</span><span style="font-size: medium;">, edificada sobre os escombros da desconstrução do currículo nacional e limitada às "aprendizagens essenciais",</span></b></i></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic; font-size: medium;"><i><b>e, mais à frente:</b></i></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic; font-size: medium;"><i><b>Vai encerrar-se um ano lectivo quase perdido e já pairam nuvens negras sobre o próximo. A escola pública carece de uma intervenção de emergência, sendo certo que nenhuma terapêutica gerará resultados se não incluir as reclamações justas dos professores e não anular os absurdos nefandos que os calcam.. Receita mínima para os remover: assumir a educação como prioridade política; aceitar a decantada recuperação do tempo de serviço dos professores, ainda que repartida ao longo dos próximos anos.; alterar profundamente o estatuto da carreira docente; institucionalizar e dimensionar realisticamente quadros docentes, de pessoal auxiliar e de equipas multidisciplinares; eliminar a burocracia estéril; garantir a disciplina na sala de aula e a autoridade do professor; extinguir os agrupamentos escolares; alterar o modelo de gestão dos estabelecimentos de ensino, recuperando a sua democraticidade; proceder à reformulação integral do plano de estudos do ensino obrigatório e dos respectivos conteúdos disciplinares. </b></i></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic; font-size: medium;"><i><b>.</b></i></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic;"><i><b>in.<span style="font-size: medium;">"Público"</span></b></i></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic;"><i><b>07.06.2023</b></i></span></div>João de Castelo Brancohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03466237215806923419noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35806898.post-83290932021398895372023-06-07T09:00:00.001+01:002023-06-07T12:19:15.348+01:00Parabéns!... 7 de Junho...<span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic;"><b><i>A <span style="font-size: medium;">Amélia Torres</span><br /><span style="font-size: medium;">f</span>az anos hoje.<br /><span style="font-size: medium;">.</span></i></b></span><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic;"><b><i><span style="font-size: medium;">.</span></i></b></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic;"><b><i><span style="font-size: medium;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg0duA8qerTCg7RvutnqIAx5PUuajbZ7Ch5-lBDC4AIzVIoFwkCbsgfrEeGHCh2aRCIITA4X-1c0GW01I-YQsXml6bS46O2u00SIwpo1wzWqh10KaKDOyFtx-783xnVMKiFFF4pwbEvxwjC5gGg_b7AYvft47usRbfeomPqVTsPP1YkmQHaxZE" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="525" data-original-width="328" height="328" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg0duA8qerTCg7RvutnqIAx5PUuajbZ7Ch5-lBDC4AIzVIoFwkCbsgfrEeGHCh2aRCIITA4X-1c0GW01I-YQsXml6bS46O2u00SIwpo1wzWqh10KaKDOyFtx-783xnVMKiFFF4pwbEvxwjC5gGg_b7AYvft47usRbfeomPqVTsPP1YkmQHaxZE=w205-h328" width="205" /></a></div>Amélia Torres</span></i></b></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic; font-size: large; font-style: italic; font-weight: 700;">.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic; font-size: medium;"><b><i>Parabéns</i></b></span></span><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic; font-size: large; font-style: italic; font-weight: 700;">, Amélia</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic; font-size: large; font-style: italic; font-weight: 700;">Que conte muitos...</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic; font-size: large; font-style: italic; font-weight: 700;">F</span><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic; font-style: italic; font-weight: 700;">icou-me para sempre nos olhos </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic;"><b><i>este arroz doce que estava esplêndido ...</i></b></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic;"><b><i>há</i></b></span></span><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic; font-style: italic; font-weight: 700;"> uns aninhos atrás.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic; font-size: large; font-style: italic; font-weight: 700;">Vão uns "beijinhos" e o desejo de um belo dia de aniversário.</span></div></div>João de Castelo Brancohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03466237215806923419noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35806898.post-19007238212200812382023-06-05T00:30:00.001+01:002023-06-07T09:32:04.545+01:00São quadras, meu bem... são quadras!...<span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic; font-size: medium;"><b><i>.</i></b></span><div><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic; font-size: medium;"><b><i>Só vou dizer uma vez <br />porque de ti tanto gosto...<br />tens um sorriso mais lindo<br />que um raio de luz ao sol posto...</i></b></span></div>João de Castelo Brancohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03466237215806923419noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35806898.post-36215111082477002662023-06-04T00:30:00.001+01:002023-06-04T00:30:00.153+01:00Humor antigo...<div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic; font-size: medium;"><b> com o traço</b></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;">de </span><span style="font-size: large;"><i>Vilhena</i></span></b></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic; font-size: medium;"><b>.</b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhajEhOSydpDFlkSrRj_qvSDavHKoENFamcBM0xYooBSWb8ODnlmjAF5e6LTeADw8QsGhiZnlTweAYxCvF3hxf0BXNpSgiDE34P2-n-kfmNK7uSPJGdJAUKYXWlrces3AyzrQ8ivcJiq7PF-rl7LRSl4LPUc0rkeWHDid2XkuqzDzbKGQN20MY/s400/As%20garotas%20do%20Vilhena%204.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="400" data-original-width="390" height="375" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhajEhOSydpDFlkSrRj_qvSDavHKoENFamcBM0xYooBSWb8ODnlmjAF5e6LTeADw8QsGhiZnlTweAYxCvF3hxf0BXNpSgiDE34P2-n-kfmNK7uSPJGdJAUKYXWlrces3AyzrQ8ivcJiq7PF-rl7LRSl4LPUc0rkeWHDid2XkuqzDzbKGQN20MY/w366-h375/As%20garotas%20do%20Vilhena%204.jpg" width="366" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic; font-size: medium;"><b>- Não, não é sua "gatinha". Deve ter-se enganado no número...</b></span></i></div>João de Castelo Brancohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03466237215806923419noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35806898.post-71995782022860654962023-06-03T10:30:00.001+01:002023-06-03T17:48:59.072+01:00Faleceu a atriz alemã...<div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic; font-size: medium;"><b><i> Margit Carstensen</i></b></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic;"><b><i><span style="font-size: medium;"> (</span>1940-2023<span style="font-size: medium;">)</span></i></b></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic;"><b><i><span style="font-size: medium;">.</span></i></b></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic;"><b><i>Foi<span style="font-size: medium;"> a Petra </span>de<span style="font-size: medium;"> Fassbinder</span></i></b></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic;"><b><i>no filme<span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></i></b></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic;"><b><i><span style="font-size: medium;">As lágrimas Amargas de Petra von Kant</span></i></b></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic;"><b><i><span style="font-size: medium;">.</span></i></b></span></div><div><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic;"><i><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-weight: bold; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgonxPzwY6SEbxdgmRbXwX36SVMABLmLiF-GpBVImlZJWuosA57N70d0ZQopZANEgILrMZaVD665kaDMVCgtdSMVej1McnkY-_rv15yFhsZljyPbfz93wN020VdVXOFhnnzQs8YDRZo_urWSiQu2IQCHnhbPpF24rYy4lHJEni0wI1v6pfyjrs/s263/descarregar%20(14).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="191" data-original-width="263" height="186" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgonxPzwY6SEbxdgmRbXwX36SVMABLmLiF-GpBVImlZJWuosA57N70d0ZQopZANEgILrMZaVD665kaDMVCgtdSMVej1McnkY-_rv15yFhsZljyPbfz93wN020VdVXOFhnnzQs8YDRZo_urWSiQu2IQCHnhbPpF24rYy4lHJEni0wI1v6pfyjrs/w256-h186/descarregar%20(14).jpg" width="256" /></a></div><span style="font-weight: bold;"><div style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-size: medium;">Margit Carstensen</span></i></div></span><div style="text-align: center;">.</div></i></span><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic; font-size: medium;"><i><b>"As Lágrimas Amargas de Petra von Kant" é uma peça, levada ao cinema em 1972, escrita e dirigida pelo prolífico Rainer Werner Fassbinder. Tem um elenco formado exclusivamente por mulheres e desenrola-se em casa da protagonista, Petra von Kant. Acompanha a dinâmica das suas complexas relações com outras mulheres.<br />.</b></i></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic;"><b><i><span style="font-size: medium;">Margit Carstensen, veterana actriz alemã que foi uma das musas de Rainer Werner Fassbinder, morreu anteontem, aos 83 anos.</span></i></b></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic;"><b><i><span style="font-size: medium;">Morreu num hospital da cidade alemã de Heide, perto da aldeia onde morava.</span></i></b></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic;"><b><i><span style="font-size: medium;">Há muitos anos que terminara a sua actividade como actriz cinematográfica mas a sua </span></i></b></span><b style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic;"><i><span style="font-size: medium;">carreira ficará para sempre ligada à figura de Petra, no filme "As lágrimas amargas de Petra von Kant", que correu em 1972. O seu nome ficará para sempre ligado ao de Fassbinder que a dirigiu em muitos outros filmes, alguns dos quais bem me recordo:</span></i></b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic;"><b><i><span style="font-size: medium;">"Martha", a "Roleta chinesa", a "Terceira geração" (1979) e "Berlin Alexanderplatz" (1980).</span></i></b></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic;"><b><i><span style="font-size: medium;">Margit Carstensen nasceu em Kiel em 1940.</span></i></b></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic;"><b><i><span style="font-size: medium;">O seu último papel, para um episódio de 2016 da série televisiva policial alemã "Tatort", reuniu-a a Irm Cfermann, a Hanna Schygulla e Eve Mattes. (*)</span></i></b></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic;"><b><i><span style="font-size: medium;">.</span></i></b></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic; font-size: medium;"><b><i>(*) - Cfm. "Público"</i></b></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic; font-size: medium;"><b><i> de 03.06.2023</i></b></span></div>João de Castelo Brancohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03466237215806923419noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35806898.post-83433570082248430622023-06-02T00:30:00.010+01:002023-06-02T14:43:58.635+01:00... no mínimo!...<div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic;"><b><i><span style="font-size: medium;"> ...num "</span><span style="font-size: large;">comentário</span><span style="font-size: medium;">" escrito neste blogue</span></i></b></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic;"><b><i><span style="font-size: medium;">pela </span><span style="font-size: large;">Teresa Soudo</span></i></b></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic; font-size: medium;"><b><i>filha do saudoso e nosso Amigo </i></b></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic;"><b><i><span style="font-size: medium;">"Dr. </span><span style="font-size: large;">Henrique Soudo</span><span style="font-size: medium;">"</span></i></b></span></div><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4wN6WsUcSDHZphO8bDC8S94osFiBhXsuHpWpUPriq7nrFIDjdjqTvKN6YkLjaNSNkLPEsiW68pkQ1k5uPhNhfQ8105dbyX7WGi6j2FtunIGd2H54WWE-R0tL1fB3zLplpkw0jZg7BobI8QflsBYaxv3VjmlCoUFjc0RmwUqfqb1huHPXU58U/s320/1981%2006%2000%20Clube%2008%20Lemos%20Ferreira%20e%20Henrique%20Soudo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="320" data-original-width="214" height="267" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4wN6WsUcSDHZphO8bDC8S94osFiBhXsuHpWpUPriq7nrFIDjdjqTvKN6YkLjaNSNkLPEsiW68pkQ1k5uPhNhfQ8105dbyX7WGi6j2FtunIGd2H54WWE-R0tL1fB3zLplpkw0jZg7BobI8QflsBYaxv3VjmlCoUFjc0RmwUqfqb1huHPXU58U/w179-h267/1981%2006%2000%20Clube%2008%20Lemos%20Ferreira%20e%20Henrique%20Soudo.jpg" width="179" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic; font-size: medium;"><b><i>Dr. Henrique Soudo</i></b></span></div><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Basic; font-size: medium;"><b><i>.<br />Sr Prof. João Castelo Branco,<br /> <br /> Infelizmente, só hoje descobri este seu blog e a homenagem feita ao meu pai.<br /> Quero agradecer-lhe a sua gentileza na preservação da sua boa memoria <br />fiquei comovida por confirmar que o meu pai foi um bom Homem e deixou amigos.<br /> Obrigada<br /> E cordiais cumprimentos<br /> Teresa Soudo<br /><br />P.S.: Talvez um dia a CMS tenha a inteligência de lembrar e destacar esses setubalenses ilustres que se foram destacando pelo seu caracter nobre, recto, corajoso, honesto, mesmo que estes não tenham sido das cores politicas vigentes... alem desta excelente turma do liceu, ainda temos mais alguns amigos dessa geração (entre eles a enfermeira paraquedista Arminda Santos, que além de ser uma personalidade interessante tb é de Setúbal (acho eu) e era amiga do General Lemos Ferreira e do meu pai) que já há muito tempo que mereciam, com toda a justiça, fazer parte da toponímia da cidade... no mínimo.<br />.<br />NB- <br />Este "comentário" foi escrito em 23 de Maio p.p.<br />Mas só ontem tive a oportunidade de o ler...</i></b></span></div><p></p><p></p>João de Castelo Brancohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03466237215806923419noreply@blogger.com0