Talking to one of my close neighbours tonight, it seems that the problem of being charged for clearance of the forest may only be something which affects owners of properties built illegally higher up the hill than ours. One can but hope.

Which reminds me . . . In nine years, the only problem I’ve ever had in doing a U-turn to exit the cul-de-sac in which I live is that 80% of drivers won’t stop to let me complete it. But I had a new experience tonight when a woman driver gesticulated at me and voiced the suggestion that I drive 300 meters to do this at the end of the road, presumably because I was holding her up for a second or two. But, then, she was driving a big BMW sports car so possibly felt a cut above me in my old Rover. This is the way of things in Pijolandia. Hopefully she lives in a really big house up the hill and will have to pay a disproportionate amount for the clearing of the bit of the forest on which her house should never have been built.

On a more positive note . . . A wonderful evening in town tonight. My elder daughter, her partner and I went to my favourite tapas bar and enjoyed, amongst other things, both gambas and zamburiñas in garlic. And then were treated to not one but two free glasses of crema de orujo, a superior Galician version of Bailey’s Cream. Apply here for orders of twelve bottles or more. You won’t be disappointed.

I returned to the site of the Spanish tax office tonight, to ensure that my return was being processed before the end-June deadline. As on the previous occasion, Windows warned me it was an unsafe site and sought my permission to allow an exemption. Which is a tad ironic.

Finally . . . The football. My daughter obliged me to watch England with her yesterday and, though tense, it was not as painful as on the two previous occasions. The victory was nice, of course, but the most remarkable thing was that, for the first time, the noise from supporters drowned out the infernal vuvuzelas. Quite an achievement.