My elder daughter has just returned from her month of tango in Buenos Aires. On the way out, Iberia upped them to First Class. On the way back, they sat them right at the rear of the plane and, when the food ran out, told them the problem was that the continuous turbulence had stopped many people from falling asleep. So, in effect, the restaurant was ‘overbooked’. Now, that’s service in a crisis. I wonder if they got to keep their plastic cutlery in compensation.

My friend, Jon, was on the ferry from Cangas to Vigo this morning and was approached by a young lady from an organisation protesting against threatened closure. She asked him whether he spoke Castellano and, getting an affirmative, then gave him a brochure entirely in Gallego. Such is life in Galicia these days. But it could have been worse; it might have been an audio tape. At least the languages read similarly.

And I received a note this afternoon saying that a gas company had called to check the safety of my set-up and, as I’d been out, asking me to phone them on the number written below. Which wasn’t, of course. I thought the scribble said the company was called Tey-Casa but it turned out to be Tey-Caga. Which I’d thought was Telefónica’s nickname.

As the driver of a 5 year old Rover which appears to be falling to pieces around me, I’m not enamoured of the four guys who stripped down the company and sold it to the Chinese, after pocketing around 10 million quid each. They are, it seems, to be banned from being directors for a few years. Which should really hurt them. But not quite as much as a public garrotting.

I’ve just posted George Borrow´s book on Spanish gypsies – The Zincali – to my Galicia web page. To me, it’s a fascinating read, though I appreciate it won’t have universal appeal. These Guttenberg Press free books are a bugger to get into modern format and this one has been even more difficult than usual. So I do hope at least one of you enjoys it. Even if you didn’t get to the end of M Rocca’s memoirs of the War of Independence.

Finally . . . If you’re near Pontevedra tomorrow, there’s a fiesta of Galician-German sausages and beer at Bora, on the old Ourense road. Time for me to check out the rumours about Nazi refugees still living in our ex-fascist hills . . .

Finally, finally . . . A warm welcome to Mark, who's being detained at the pleasure of Her Majesty's NHS. And to Holly, who I finally figured out was the previous Follower to join.