There was panic in Marbella this week when a shark was seen close to the shore. I’d have thought they’d be inured to sharks down there. Albeit from landward.

For those with a good stomach, here’s Edward Hugh’s latest downbeat commentary of the Spanish economy. Grim reading. But, of course, he may be wrong and Sr. Zapatero might be right that the good times are just around the corner. Little though there is in the latter’s track record to justify any optimism.

The good news is that there is a Spanish banking consumer watchdog – ADICAE – and that it is “highly credible, independent and respected in Spain.” I wonder why we don’t hear more about its work. Perhaps Spanish customers don’t complain as much as the miserable guiris.

Even better news is that deaths on Spanish roads this summer were well down on last year and, in fact, the lowest for nearly 50 years. Just imagine the pain and grief avoided.

I’ve asked regularly over the years when the British taxpayers would finally revolt against the corrupt feather-bedding which results in their humungous municipal taxes. Well, something has finally happened. But the action has come not from any taxpayers but from one of the very councils. You can read about it here but this comment captures the justifiable tone of disbelief . . “You may be feeling disorientated, overcome by a surreal sensation, on hearing such extraordinary, unprecedented views. They are the almost forgotten, forcibly extinguished voice of sanity which most people had thought forever excised from British politics.”

You’ll have to forgive me if this post is below par but I’m laid up with flu. Whether A, B, C or Z or even porcine, I don’t know but it’s a bugger living alone when you’re ill and you have to get up to make the whisky toddies yourself. Or would be if I hadn’t left the bottle in my house in the hills.

It may be because I’m reading Borrow on gypsies but I take the view that I’ve been brought low by a curse from Cade. This was reinforced this morning then we had none of his usual inanities in the Comments, convincing me he’d decided to eschew these in favour of a potion from a Galician bruxa. Or meiga. I can never remember which is the good witch and which the bad.

As for the flu itself, I’m hoping it’s peaked today as I have visitors for the Medieval Fair tomorrow. I’ve actually had two sweaty, restless nights and woke this morning in the middle of a dream in which I was inventing a slogan for the Andalucian Tourist Board. Believe it or believe it not, this was Andalucia is like peanuts. Very Moorish. A very strange thing the overnight mind. Or what Steinbeck once called “The committee of sleep”.

All of which reminds me . . . I went to find someone at the Pontevedra Council Turismo offices yesterday. She wasn’t there but I was able to pick up a 92 page glossy brochure promoting events in the EU-manufacutred region of The Atlantic Axis. Which comprises North Portugal and South Galicia. So that makes two people who’ve now read this. Cade and me. Well worth the outlay.

Finally . . . Welcome to Follower number 30. I had thought I’d cracked this but I’m afraid I’m not sure what your name is. I guess I could produce a list in the hope that the total climbs to 31. Delirious now. So had better stop.

PS. Having realised - guess how - that Tony was well and truly back from the sea, I called him and asked him to deposit a bottle of whisky at my front gate. Which he did. Good man, Tony. I'll have nothing said against him.