Phew. Got it. Yesterday's immortal prose, not to say matchless wit, failed to publish properly - came up on index, but couldn't be found when asked for. Granny. not only wit but techical whizz kid happened on idea of trying edit: eureka, there was blog - so she needn't bother to re-construct it as feared...
Telly still a problem; no channel 4. Telefonica after all unable to provide Broad Band. Car definitely has clutch problem and been taken off by fat British mechanic with fat wife driving his own car. Expats can have their uses.
Weather has reverted. No more than 23C, wind, so so. None of it unpleasant. Almost 11am and I am in dressing-gown still after wakefulness at 3 am and much wandering around house drinking sleepy tea accompanied by lonely cat. Beloved deep in sleep from useful Spanish pill. He was very upset last night - trawling on internet to see who had replaced him at his Oxbridge college discovered that junior colleague he'd appointed had died of lung cancer aged 38. Much more upsetting of course than death of older colleague, the kind you expect at our age and which happens all the time. He's gone off shopping now. I am supposed to be working. Ha ha.
My dad used to look at the weather reports every day to see what the weather was like here. Of course what he saw didn't always bear much relation to weather up our way. But still, the thought of him not being there doing it makes me ache. It was a kind of love, that particular interest.