Like all sensible Englishmen, I found something else to do at 4pm today – the hour of the regular ritual execution by the Germans of a woefully underperforming English team. And right now – in the aftermath of Argentina’s third goal against Mexico - I’m wondering why I didn’t pursue the thought of betting heavily on the team with a G in its name. After Uruguay, Ghana and Germany had got through earlier. The other thing I’m wondering about, of course, is whether this day of dreadfully wrong refereeing decisions will force the football authorities to take a step in the direction of 21st century technology. I’m guessing not.

Meanwhile, I’m wondering whether things are now so bad for the providers of goods and services in Spain that the customer is suddenly important. Citibank is the third operator I’ve seen in two days offering a free 900 number for enquiries. The flood gates are clearly open. The mobile phone companies will surely stop cheating us soon. Possibly even Telefónica. Sorry, Movistar.

Anyone with any knowledge of modern Spanish history knows that the years before the outbreak of civil war in 1936 were, shall we say, colourful. But I hadn’t known that 27th June 1931 saw the declaration of the Republic of Galicia by the region’s Revolutionary Committee. I wonder if this was the model for the Ealing comedy Passport to Pimlico? I guess not.

We have a new regime down at the swimming pool in our communal garden. There are notices on each post there requesting that we don’t do any of the ten things listed. My visiting daughter read it and suggested they could have saved ink by just writing “Don’t be Spanish”. Which I thought amusing but very bad mannered for someone who’s a guest in this fine country. I duly reprimanded her and sent her back to Madrid with her tail between her legs.

The British say “behind bars”, while the Spanish say “between bars” (entre rejas). I wonder which is more accurate.

Which reminds me . . . My daughter told me she'd seen bocarones translated on a Madrid menu as 'wide-gaping mouths on toast'. And pimientos de Padrón as 'peppers of the voting register'. Honest.

Finally . . . I wonder what it is about the British Union Jack that makes it such a popular design for shirts and T-shirts. Perhaps the wearers don’t really know what it is. Or maybe they’re all rabid Anglophiles. Or football sympathisers.