Life in Culebrón

It's election time in Spain. The local and European elections were on the cards, programmed in on the calendar for May from long ago, ...

People tell me I complain. I usually think I am commenting or, more often, guffawing, at the preposterousness of whatever it may be. For i...

Everyone knows that Brits in Spain wear socks with sandals, go bright red in the sun and swill beer. One of those conversational topics, des...

I still watch TV more or less as I did in the 1960s. Not that I stare avidly at Zip Nolan or Mike Nelson in Sea Hunt but I do generally,...

I don't think that I have ever missed an opportunity to vote in local, regional or national elections since I turned 18. They've a...

Recently I have had a bit of a spate of sending Mr Angry letters - well emails - to various organisations in Spain. Generally they have be...

It's not a complex idea. When I was a lad braziers were the natural complement to those little striped tents that workmen used to set ...

I've been to some cold places in my life. England in January isn't that warm; the Isle of Lewis and Stockholm are often colder but...

I thought he wasn't going to come. He didn't send me the message he'd promised yesterday and he didn't answer my text mess...

I'm back in Culebrón for the weekend. Before I left La Unión I checked the State Weather Service to see whether I would need a wooly o...

I'm sitting in a shopping centre drinking coffee. If I'm lucky I have another seven hours to kill. If I'm unlucky I will have t...