BBC TV’s successful celebrity ballroom dancing program has naturally been copied around the world. I caught a bit of the Spanish version last night. There were two immediately obvious local touches. Firstly, the celebrity performing was one of Spain’s large army of more-than-middle-aged, still-long-haired, overweight female singers. These do not make for sexy disco dancers. At least not for me. And they don’t like to give up the microphone for anyone, which does little for continuity. The second local aspect possibly reflects the fact that, although the Spanish love a good argument, they’re not comfortable with direct criticism. So, instead of a single panel of ballroom experts who might be expected to get a little insulting, there were effectively two panels. One was composed of fellow celebrities who could be relied on to tell the Diva how stupendous she was and to give her ridiculously high marks. And the other comprised 3 experts who said very little but brought some reality into the marking. All in all, it was wildly OTT. Just as you’d expect.

I‘ve read that people in the UK are taking exception to British nationals resident in Spain receiving the 200 quid winter fuel allowance, even if they have paid their taxes before retiring. I suspect this is founded on ignorance of just how cold it gets in winter in Spain, especially along the south coast. Or up any mountain.

Spanish international companies are finding it difficult to get employees to work overseas. 94% of them say that they’re reluctant to go ‘for family reasons’. So, no great surprise there.

Back in the domestic economy, Spain now has more bank branches that both The UK and France. In fact, it even has more than Germany, where the population is double Spain’s. I wonder what percentage of these are as inefficient as the one I used this morning, where it took me 25 minutes to complete the 30 second transaction of paying some money into my daughter’s account. “Be fair!” you will say. ‘It’s the holiday season and there was only one girl there to act as both teller and personal adviser. And to answer all the phone calls. She had to deal with a chap who wanted to open an account and then a couple of tourists who’d lost their bank book. No wonder it took her 24 minutes to get to you, even though you were only third in the queue.” “Quite right”, I would riposte, “But then it’s exactly the same every other day of the year, whether she’s alone or whether there are 3, 4 or even 5 employees working at other desks. God knows what they’re doing, apart from studiously ignoring the customers.” In truth, I felt rather sorry for the young lady. Apart from the fact she was hassled, she could probably sense – not for the first time – the frustration seeping out of my pores. It’s a good job I follow my own advice and take a book with me everywhere. I just wish I could concentrate on it.