Spanish Shilling

It must be a hard time for those who are currently trapped in a small apartment. A couple of rooms, and someone always on the family compute...

‘Hello Lenox. Listen, I’ve just heard that poor old Ric is dead’. It’s Pedro del Puntazo on the line. We talk a little as we remember Po...

Charles Baxter had been living in Mojácar since around the time we arrived, in 1966. He had a house in the valley near ours (that's o...

My first end-of-the world experience was a novel read at the tender age of twelve: John Wyndham's 'Day of the Triffids'. You may...

It's no secret that I harbour a strong dislike of the newspaper now known as The Euro Weekly (or ' The Weenie ' to its detracto...

Mojácar is becoming a rather odd place. It's turned from a sleepy village ' run by hippies ' to an uneasy mixture of Disneyville...

Here we are, on the step outside our little cortijo in the hills above Mojácar, Barbara and me and Baby Daniel, just three days old. The fut...

Coastal home-owners in Spain (British or otherwise) must now begin to look to the skies. The storm called Gloria visited us recently a...

The international tourist fair - FITUR - returns to Madrid in late January for its fortieth edition, and, frankly, everyone will be there. W...

Almería's Alcazaba was once put on the market by the City Hall. It must have been a bit strapped for cash when, in 1866, the castle a...

There will be few readers who don't have a firm opinion about marijuana, so I won't dwell on the mafia hoping it will never be legal...

We are in that small space between Christmas and New Year (complicated slightly by the Spanish who insist on celebrating the Twelfth Night f...

A 'londro' - the kind of merchantman that appears in this story In the middle of the 18th century, the Catalonian merchantman “S...

Every farm in southern Spain has something called an ' era ' which is a flat dirt circle, I think called a threshing circle in Engli...