Life in Culebrón

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I'm sometimes a little scathing about our attitude to Spain and our failure to integrate. We British are a pretty big immigrant group in Spain but unlike the other groups who generally have to use Spanish to survive we don't. English is so all pervasive that we can get by. It's possible to keep well away from the mainstream of Spanish life by reading a British newspaper, watching British TV and living a British life surrounded by Spain. We're also generally pretty rich. I don't mean that everyone lives the life of Reilly but, unlike the majority of Ecuadorians or Moroccans, many of us have sufficient money to live a reasonably comfortable life without having to work. Plenty of us do work and plenty of us are strapped for cash at times but generally, and generalisations are generally untrue, our wealth keeps us out of the labour market and so away from the integration that comes with working life. Where there are largish British populations other Britons set up...

Unless I suddenly flee the country or unless I have a violent argument with my new landlady I expect to become a resident of La Unión next week. Yesterday I handed over the fee to the estate agent for introducing me to my new flat and next Tuesday I will meet my new landlady and hand over a month's rent and the breakage deposit. When the agent told me that the landlady wanted to see my wage slips I said that I would like to see her wage slips too and asked that he pass on that message to her. It's obvious enough why she wants to see my wage slips. I'm a risk for her. She lets me into her house and, like all tenants, once I'm in I'm difficult to get out. She doesn't know if I'm the sort of person who will pay my bills or not. She doesn't know if I will smash up her furniture or play loud reggae music at 3am to amuse the neighbours. Wage slips don't actually prove anything of course. Richer people than me like reggae and don't pay bills. Past...