Life in Culebrón

People tell me they are never swayed by advertising. Not me; I see an ad for something that looks useful and I'm there. That spray to stop the water stains on the glass shower screen, for instance, is great. I saw an advert for some stuff to stop fungus growing on your toe nails. I hadn't realised that I had fungussy feet till I saw the advert. Gross. I just thought it was, well something else. So adverts are informative too. My feet and hands tingle a lot, it's not exactly painful but it's not nice either. The last time I asked a doctor about it he or she (I forget which) told me it wasn't anything that showed up on tests, none of those normal but nasty things like diabetes. Their expert advice was that I put it down to getting older, grin and bear it. Last night on the telly I saw an advert where some people were grimacing as they twiddled their feet or shook their hands. The advert described circulation problems being eased by their medication. It looked like...

Dental care, extraction apart, is not a part of the Spanish social security system. Because it costs money to go to the dentist we haven't done it since we got here. That means it is something like 18 months since anyone has peered into my mouth. Today though someone wearing latex gloves and a face mask sucked spittle out of my mouth and then charged me 50€ for the pleasure. With Maggie working down near the coast we went to a dentist that some of her pals had recommended, close to her work, in a place called Gran Alacant. Gran Alacant is basically a housing estate for foreigners. It was just like tens of dental surgeries I've been to in the UK. The magazines on the table were old and in English. The dentist wasn't ready for us at the appointed time, the receptionist, like everyone else associated with the practice, wore a white coat and was brusque without being unpleasant. There were posters of teeth and leaflets for mouthwash. A small child screamed as we waited, thoug...