Let’s get the bad news out of the way – The latest negative comments on Spain’s economy have come from the UN. Specifically, it criticises housing policy - highlighting the revenue link between local councils and real estate developments. With now the highest number of empty properties in Europe, the country – it says – now faces a slowdown that will be greater than elsewhere. However, some praise is given for the [belated] efforts to promote the rental market.

To be more positive – The Central Bank here says it’s acted sagely over the last six months or so and that, as a result, Spain’s banks are not as exposed to the consequences of the USA sub-prime debacle as those elsewhere. However, the opposition PP party takes the view there are things under the carpet which we’ll only get to hear about after the March elections. So, not long to wait.

Meanwhile, over in the UK and thanks, of course, to the country’s egregious tabloid media, Britons now appear to live in a greater state of fear than at any time in our history. Times are relatively peaceful, infant mortality is negligible, most people have too much to eat, yet people all over the country seem to wake up every day to a heightened sense of dread. My question is - If it only cost a few thousand pounds to assassinate Mrs Bhutto, wouldn’t it take only a couple of hundred to get rid of Rupert Murdoch? Any takers? There’s a big discount for the whole bloody family.

Before I walk into Pontevedra every morning, I park my car in a side street on my side of the bridge. Since this is on a slope, I put the car in the right gear, apply the hand brake and turn the wheels so as to ensure, if all else fails, it can only run into the kerb. It struck me yesterday that, although this only takes a second or two, it would probably strike most Spaniards as preposterously anally retentive. So I checked on all the cars parked on inclines on my way into and out of town. Of 137, only 5 had their wheels askew. Since one of these was the wrong way, let’s say 4 out of 137, or 3%. I’ve no idea whether Spaniards are taught to turn their wheels but, if so, this seems to be conclusive evidence they comprehensively ignore the advice. Possibly because of a pragmatic view that where there’s only a small percentage risk, life is too short to bother with even a few seconds of preventative effort. All of these would add up to a serious inroad into fun time. Of course, I could always try to argue that the nature of the consequence [destruction of your car, death of a pedestrian, etc.] is as important as the percentages but I imagine I’d get very short shrift on this. Hence the leaning lampposts near my house.

The other survey I’ve been working on is that of legal/illegal parking. But I think I’ll give this up as there seems to be nowhere in Pontevedra where parking is not practised – white lines on the road, yellow lines on the road and/or kerb, chevrons, hospital urgency bays, bus stops, zebra crossings. You name it, it’s a parking space. I guess the attitude was summed up by a friend who told me on Friday evening she’d been lucky enough to find a space right in front of the town hall. “But” I said “there are yellow chevrons there and there’s no sign saying the restriction is limited to working hours.” “It’s implicit.” she replied. She should know; she’s a lawyer.