It seems the President won the second TV debate as well as the first. Which probably means we’re due a second term for the socialist administration. I get the impression the personal insults flew just as thick and fast as they had during the first confrontation. But the funny thing is neither seems to have accused the other of running a party which had presided over massive town hall corruption; world-class drug-dealing and money-laundering; a prostitution industry which dwarfs any other in Europe; and the iniquitous ‘land-grabbing’ from foreign residents. In other words, over the blots which give Spain the reputation she doesn’t want. And which she resents so much, if reminded of it. I wonder why there is this political reticence. Glass houses, I suppose. Or perhaps they both feel the live-and-let live Spanish don’t care about these things. Even worse, they may well be right.

The pace of road development in Iberia – particularly Spain – is probably without precedent in world history. And it may provide support for Bacon’s dictum that ‘Laundered money is like shit; no good unless spread.’ Though I think he wrote ‘muck’. And possibly omitted ‘Laundered’. Anyway, this time round my trip threw up a new A13 between Santarém and Montemor-o-Novo on the A6 in Portugal and a new A4 from Cordoba to Madrid in Andalucia. However, I suspect the latter is just the N-IV tarted up since I last drove down it in 2002. There was also an R-4 south of Madrid which tempted me for a few seconds, until I realised it was a toll road. Which allows me to confirm that Yes, the tolls on some of the Portuguese roads do reach the 10 or 11 centimos a kilometre we’re charged on the Pontevedra-Vigo stretch of the AP9. Some people like to know these things. Especially as they virtually equate to the fuel costs - in Spain, if not quite in Portugal. Where prices are an unbelievable 30-40% higher. No wonder you can’t move in Tui at the weekends for Portuguese topping up their tanks.

In Ēvora [not ‘Elvora’, as I wrote the other day], it’s either illegal or socially unacceptable to paint your house exterior in anything other than white and ochre. And there is, in the high street, a paint merchant with just two large plastic containers by way of window decoration. I didn’t actually check but I’d be prepared to place a large bet on their contents.

At Vigo airport last week, I noticed that one of the small snacks in the restaurant was called a pulga. Which is Spanish for ‘flea’. In English, it might be called a ‘bite’. So . . . a flea bite, then.

And, in my regular café this morning, the new waitress seemed reluctant to stop using the usted form of address in my case. I explained it was an unknown practice in English and struck me as far too formal. “Yes”, she said, “but you are due it on account of your age.” Great. Just what I needed. Especially on the day I realised I haven’t the faintest idea of the difference between HD and its alleged conqueror, Blu-Ray.

Finally, a word of praise for Córdoban hotel, bar and restaurant staff, all of whom were extremely pleasant and helpful. Perhaps they were all new to their jobs and hadn’t yet suffered a full tourist season. No, my impression – as in Mérida last year – is that there’s genuine warmth in the South, even towards tourists. And the food’s good as well. Even if there was bloody octopus a la Gallega on the menu. Alongside chicken tights.