Firstly, an apology for a Freudian slip in yesterday’s blog. The name of the Spanish Formula 1 driver is, of course, Fernando Alonso. By pure coincidence, Carlos Alonso, is the friend who sent me the stuff on police radar traps. And whom I didn’t want to cite by name in case it embarrassed him! The best laid schemes of mice and men….

The French referendum decision seems to have produced a state of shock in Spain. And perhaps not a little discomfort at the fact that something approved without a scintilla of debate here has provoked wide rifts of opinion in France and Holland. To say nothing of the UK. Mr Zapatero has said the ratification process must continue, which suggests he knows very little about how Tony Blair works. No wonder he’s criticised for naivety.

Well, I duly got a letter from my insurance company yesterday telling me the bank had rejected their demand for 5.84 euros so could I please come into the office and pay them in cash. See my blog of 12 May for the background to this classic waste of paper and time.

I was doing some research in Tui today for my web page on Galicia. The chap behind the Tourist Office desk appeared to be at least 100 and my immediate thought was that it must be President Fraga’s father. Like son, like father – determined to die in office. So I left quickly, before he could manage it.

Finally, just one comment on the filming of last Friday. Perhaps the most remarkable aspect of an interesting day was the heights of coquettishness achieved by one of the female members of the film crew. This is an art at which Spanish women excel but I’ve never seen it done better. Sadly, it wasn’t directed at me but at the other British shipwrecked corpse. I rather got the impression that, if I hadn’t been there, she’d have been only too pleased to administer the kiss of life until the poor man expired again of other causes. He just seemed bewildered.