Sweet

One of the local choirs sang a few songs last night. The recital started at 11pm, to avoid the heat, and they did about a dozen tunes. Nothing special really but, then again, there is something rather nice about closing down a street, setting out a few chairs, installing a choir and giving away fizzy wine and cake when it's all done.

Someone said to me the other day that Spaniards like to complain about the summer heat but that they really look forward to summer - it's just like one long party with a group of friends - she said.

And, as an aside we were in Murcia yesterday afternoon which has a reputation for being a little warm. When we came out of the pictures there was a breeze, a hot breeze, like a large scale fan heater. The thermometer on the car suggested a comfortable 38.5ºC

On dogs

We're a nation of animal lovers. Everyone knows. We Brits are appalled at the way the Spaniards let their dogs wander unattended, how dogs are left to fend for themselves and, worst of all, how the Spanish simply abandon their dogs when they go off for their annual holiday.

I was talking to a British woman who runs a local charity to look after abandoned dogs. She tells me that lots of Britons are upping sticks and returning to the UK or are taking their long summer holidays outside of Spain. She tells me that these people are abandoning their dogs.

Agenda 21

When I left Huntingdon, a little under four years ago, Agenda 21, the initiatives around sustainable development, were well under way.

Tonight, in Pinoso, the process started - or at least the bit of it that has anything to do with participation from the citizenry of the town got under way.

It was a straightforward enough process. It was a public meeting. At 9pm, the advertised start time, there were six of us there. The hosting councillor and the mayor turned up at around 9.10pm. by 9.30pm we were maybe 50 strong and we started. I thought I was in trouble when the welcome was in Valenciano (the local language) but fortunately the main presentation and Power Point display was in Castillian ("Spanish"). We were all invited to get involved in small scale round table groups. I put my name down but I made it clear that I may have a bit of a problem with the language!!

A matter of life and death

We have a relatively large garden in Culebrón. Lots of fruit trees, flowers and all sorts of shrubs and bushes as well as a rather fine collection of extremely hardy and vibrant weeds.

The soil is good, the sun shines so with the adition of a drop or two of water everything bursts into life. The weeds for instance seem to be able to undo the work of the most potent herbicides known to humankind in about two weeks and reach heights of 30 to 40cms without my noticing. However, take away the water and lots of the stuff that doesn't really live here justs wilts, withers and dies. The fig trees, the olives, almonds, the pines, the oleanders, rosemary and palm trees for instance just plod on with or without a drink but things like the vines and the tomatoes just admit defeat and go gently into that good good night when they go thirsty.

We have an irrigation system. A system of hosepipes that run around the garden with little spigots dug into the pipe at various intervals. The water dribbles out and waters the whole garden (well it misses a bit actually but we use a hosepipe connected to an electric pump to drag water from the rain water cistern, or aljibe, to water the rest). Some of our irrigation hose has split so we bought a couple of hundred metres of new hose to replace the dodgy bits. It's a nasty little job but the system really does work well so it's worth the maintenance required.

Still booting

My bosses at RústicOriginal still run the car boot sale every Sunday at their out of town premises. I don't go very often but Maggie carefully explained to me that we were in urgent need of geraniums and that attendance was both desirable and necessary

It really has become a bit of a local institution - Brits by the bucket load of course but the Dutch, Germans, Moroccans, Ecuadorians, Ukranians and Spaniards are there both as buyers and sellers. This is a Spanish stall.

On being dead

We've never been invited to a Spanish funeral but we have seen plenty in passing. People don't dress up in suits and posh frocks; apparently Franco said that people had to wear clothes without colour - white, black or grey - and the reaction, after democracy returned, was to turn out in ordinary clothes. The mourners often clap when the casket is carried to the car for transport to the cemetery.

Cremation is a growing trend amongst Spaniards but, until recently, the Catholic Church was dead set against it. So it is still quite unusual to be cremated. Burial is the standard option.

People are buried in niches, a sort of dexion shelving system, horizontally and vertically ordered - the photo at the top left. The memorial stone that covers the access to the niche usually contains a picture of the person. Richer families buy a block of shelving set in a small mausoleum. Our local cemetery has recently installed a set of smaller shelves for people who want to inter the ashes of their friends and family in a dignified manner - thats the photo at top right.

Is there too much religion on the TV in Spain?

Not normally, but that is a Praying Mantis on our telly isn't it?

What a nice man

There is a dirt track, a couple of hundred metres long, to our house from the main, tarmac, road. Over the winter the rains have dug impressive cañons into the earth, some maybe 25cms deep. Ruts deep enough to make even modern car suspensions work pretty hard. Very joggly woggly.

Outside, now, the local farmer seems to have decided to grade the track. He only really uses the track when he's driving a tractor or some huge four wheel drive so he can only be doing this as a neigbourly gesture. Good stuff

Step 2: The Town Hall

Yesterday morning Maggie and I took the architect's plan to the Town Hall. They have to give us the go-ahead for rebuilding the roof.

There is a little saying amongst the expats here; just one more piece of paper. And that's exactly what we needed. They wanted us to provide a Nota Simple, a document that shows that the house is free of all debt. I had to go back with it but, so far as we can tell, it's now just a wait for the Town Hall to send us the letter to say we can start. I have no idea what we could do if they were to turn us down

No more phone home

Maggie turned up back in Culebrón yesterday afternoon. Back home for the summer. In time to recover and get comfy in front of the telly tonight to see Casillas and the boys go all the way in the footie.

She was keen to prove to herself that she was back in Alicante. She started with some wine (very little wine in Salamanca province, lots in Alicante) and we also popped down to paddle in the Med at Santa Pola (they make do with the River Agueda in Ciudad Rodrigo). Local sausage for tea tonight I suspect.

Step 1: The plans

It's quite a while since part of our roof fell in. We've talked to the insurance company about cover, we've applied for an "in principal" bank loan and I contracted a technical architect or aparejador to draw up some plans for the new roof. We paid 2,200€ for the plans with "VAT" at 16% on top. With the plans we can apply to the local Town Hall for planning permission and once they give the go ahead (and take the approx 300€ for their time) then the builders can actually start work. I have this horrid feeling that the work will get the go ahead just in time for the four week shutdown of the whole of Spain through August!

I read the plans this morning. The technical architect acts as a sort of foreman for the work. At each key stage he pops along to check that things are made from the right materials, put together properly etc. The thing that amused me was the Health and Safety section of the plans. It was as exhaustive as anything I've seen in the UK. Everything from hard hats, steel capped boots and first aid kits through disposal of the waste to the dimensions and construction of the scaffolding. But I know that when the blokes turn up to knock the roof down they'll borrow our ladders and, wearing shorts, they'll set about the roof with a lump hammer. Never mind, the contract says that any accidents during the work have nothing to do with us!