I also see God did something unusual on his birthday, destroying a Galician monastery with a bolt of lightning that set fire to the place. Or perhaps it was the Devil playing a joke and showing us he's still around as a force to be reckoned with.
Seville's old town is a maze of narrow streets. Naming them all has been a challenge for the municipal authorities. And so, after running through all the obvious ones, they've come with names like 'The Great Power of Jesus St.' and 'The Love of God St'. And there's one that's called simply 'Calle de Aguas' (Waters St) but, this being Andalucia, the 's' is dropped and the sign just says 'Agua'.
Living in Spain, you have to get used to things happening at least 2 hours later than they would in other countries. Take 'midday', for example, which takes place between 2 and 3pm here. And 'morning', which (logically) stretches until the same time. Anyway, I mention this because, at 11.20 last night, the people in the flat above us started to move their furniture around. I say 'move' but 'drag across the tiled floor' would be more accurate. They finally finished the task somewhere around 1am.
Returning home on Christmas Day night, my daughters and I noticed a poster about Camels in Alameda de Hércules. And then we smelled them, in a nearby pen. Peering through the tarpaulin curtains, we clocked 6 adults and a calf. Chatting to a tall turbanned Tuareg, we learnt they'd been brought over from the Sahara to give rides to kids between Xmas and The Kings (6 Jan). Truth be told, though, they're single-humped dromedaries, not camels. And one of them gets characteristically ratty when the seats are attached, displaying some pretty dreadful dentures.
My elder daughter tells me Seville is reputed to be home to the prettiest women in Spain. Maybe, but I think the ladies of Pontevedra could give them a run for their money. I've seen nothing to convince me yet. And I'm looking hard.
Which reminds me . . . Lord Byron described Seville as "A pleasant city, famous for oranges and women". The Rough Guide is rather dismissive of this "19th century chauvinism". So I wonder what they'd make of my comments.
But anyway, here's something on the same theme to end this post with. OK, you purists, 'with which to end this post'.