I may have given the impression all construction sites here move at the pace of a snail. Or a dead snail, in the case of the one at the front of my house. Well, this is not exactly true. On the site behind my house, work has been continuous for months now and four houses are rising at a cracking pace. I couldn’t help noticing, though, that the cars of the workers all bear Portuguese plates. Which is a tad ironic, as there is a belief abroad here that life across the nearby border moves even more sedately than it does here.

One thing that is done extremely quickly – and well – in Pontevedra is the fitting out of shops. Maybe this is because the companies involved benefit from a continuous carousel of ownership. Or at least merchandise. I’ve heard various theories for this, the most interesting being that the numerous clothes boutiques and shoe shops are essentially money-laundering outlets for drug traffickers. Fanciful, I’m sure.

I had a dental appointment today. All very cutting-edge, quick and impressive. But I always find it a little worrying that, when giving an X-ray, both the dentist and his assistant flee the room when the machine is on. Do they know something I don’t?

Further enquiries about the name Peregrina suggest it’s largely confined to mothers and aunts. Not of this generation, then. Except for the lovely young lady who brought it to my distracted attention when delivering the plumber’s extortionate bill.