Much as I love Spain, I sometimes feel I‘m on a different planet........ I went to my bank today, to see a chap who had called me after I had written complaining of mistakes that had caused me problems in the last month or so. The long list of preparatory activities this gentleman had not indulged in included reading my letter and coming up with a constructive response. So, a good half hour was spent in walking round his attempt to understand why I had been angry enough to write in the first place. At the end of this unproductive nonsense, he asked me whether I was still angry and seemed nonplussed at my answer. Needless to say, what stands out from all of this is the bank’s assumption that wasting an hour of my time was a better option than their taking the trouble to construct a considered response to my original letter. Ah well, my expectations had, anyway, been rock bottom. So I was not exactly disappointed.

Our new neighbours had visitors last night. As is customary in Spain, they put the TV on full volume, sat round it and then bellowed at each other - often simultaneously - until after one in the morning. Try as I might, I can’t think why the Spanish are so inordinately loud but I suspect it’s just something they learn to be as infants and then never stop. Next door’s kids are certainly getting off to a good start.