When we are in Culebrón we don't do much. We avoid the cleaning. Eddie goes out to slaughter small animals but still demands lots of Whiskas. We usually catch up with our British pals and we luxuriate in a comfy sofa to watch the telly.
The Saturday morning ritual includes going into Pinoso where the one key job is checking our PO box at the the Post Office. We've done that today - Post Office, newsagent, supermarket, greengrocer and Chinese shop. About as ordinary and as boring as ordinary and boring could be.
Tasks done, arm stretching carrier bags dumped in the boot of the car we set out to get a cup of coffee. On the way we bumped into a couple of acquaintances who dance in one of the local folk groups - the Spanish may be halting but we nattered about cutbacks in medical services, incompetent politicians and life. Two hundred metres later it was Ernesto, the ex lorry driver, he supports Arsenal and asked, as he always does, for Maggie's football alleigances. She's Liverpool through and through and the 1971 Cup Final still rankles.
We finally got a clear run and headed to Oasis to have that coffee. The Uruguayan waiter was as pleasant as ever. Outside, in the warm sun Maggie commented how the dry and sweet smelling air of Pinoso was infinitely superior to the stickier and more industrial air of Cartagena.
Not at all bad.