This is a day for quoting from the blogs of net colleagues . . . .

- Trevor at Kalebeul cites an interesting irony about Galicia's three competing mini-airports.

- Charles Butler at Ibex Salad provides a piece that will interest Banco Santander watchers.

- And, finally, Graeme at South of Watford gives us some fascinating practical advice on booking trains in Spain via the internet.

For those still interested in it, here’s a bit more on Act 6 of the National Comic Opera

Over in the UK, feather-nesting continues among the Great British Bureaucracy. For the nth year running – and in the teeth of a recession-cum-depression, when the major concern is now deflation - municipal taxes are to rise at many times the level of underlying inflation. As I keep on asking, when are taxpayers going to revolt against this? Perhaps it could all start in Boston. The one in Lincolnshire, of course.

If you’ve been flying over Galicia this week and smelt burning fish, the reason is that this is the time of year – the end of the first week in Lent – when mock funeral processions are held and various large effigies immolated at the end of corteges which involve a great deal of wailing and much cross-dressing. In most towns along this coast, the stuffed creature is an unimaginative sardine. But, here in Pontevedra, it’s a gaudy parrot called Ravachol. This year, of course, he will be dressed as a banker. Pictures tomorrow, maybe.

It’s been a long time coming but today is the last day of campaigning in our regional elections. In retrospective, it might have bit more interesting if my taxpayer status had given me a vote. But I rather doubt it. Anyway, we should have the results early next week, unless it all hinges on the overseas votes that will take a week or two to verify and count. And possibly recount. On a more positive note, I can now look forward to the European elections later this year, in which I do have a vote. And in which - I’ve just discovered - I can stand as a candidate. In fact, I’m now contemplating joining the EU racket, as President of the Galician Gravytrain Party. Anyone know how to translate this into Spanish and, more profitably, Gallego?

But . . . I may be too late. The experts who’ve argued that the economics of realpolitik make an EU implosion impossible seem to be breaking ranks. Just my bloody luck. Hopefully, though, Herr Pohl is just putting the frighteners on the likes of Greece and Ireland. Though old Ambrose doesn’t, of course, think so. Can he possibly be right after all? And, if so, what on earth will it mean for us here in Spain?