I’m not sure whether this is a reflection of Spanish attitudes to risk; or to a live-and-let-live philosophy; or even to the admirable pragmatism which pervades this society – perhaps all three – but I was once again surprised last night to see a mother fail to react at all when a young cyclist on the pavement swerved to avoid her toddler and then almost hit the woman herself. I feel sure that, in similar circumstances, most Anglo mothers would have been screaming in rage. Both reactions are extreme perhaps. But the Spanish one possibly fits more with probabilities and accident statistics.

On a similar note, it regularly shocks me to see visiting British parents who’ve been conditioned to see a paedophile lurking behind every bush. As I’ve said before, I doubt UK statistics are worse than those of Spain. But the levels of fear are clearly vastly greater there.

Still on the UK . . . For any ‘foreigners’ wondering why so many of us Brits feel UK society is heading for Hell in a handcart, try this article on the chronic welfare dependency which the writer says “sits at the core of the debilitating collapse of civic order in Britain.” I’m old enough to recall Keith Joseph trying to get to grips with this issue as far back 1974, and destroying his political career in the process. History will not be kind to the liberal progressives who took over Britain in that decade and who, with the very best of intentions, set about destroying it. As if the weather wasn’t a big enough disincentive for living there. And I write from Galicia!

I’ve been musing recently on just how much unnecessary plastic we get. Around individual red peppers or hands of bananas, for example. At the local fair last night, I bought 3 laminated pictures which were rolled up and placed in a plastic bag. Driving home, it struck me a simple elastic band would have been enough. Sure enough, when I got in and opened the bag, there was one of these around the roll as well. Has anyone yet formed the Anti-Plastic Association?

Finally, for anyone interested, here are photos taken during the ten days it took the dove chicks outside my bedroom window to turn from hopeless bundles of bone and feathers to efficient flying machines.