Honest it's Spain not Blackpool

But you could be forgiven for thinking St Jacques has heard I am coming home. If every rain drop was a grain of sand - you'd be able to see the beach. It is only 30 yards away. A beautiful big sandy expanse but sadly you can't see it. Maybe tomorrow it will be visible. I'm thinking of getting a tattoo just to keep me out of the bars but I wasn't sure whether to go for a shell or a harp.

The Gallegos language is very similar to Gaelic - well insofar as I can't understand a word. Thankfully they think I'm German so I'm not letting down Scotia, too much. Reminds me of a story about Iain Saville and Tom Morrison at the excellent do held at the castle back around 2000. I ended up doing a sword dance with Ali from the Turkish stock exchange. He didn't speak Gaelic either but it might as well have been. While I was being ushered to the dance floor with my 'see you jimmy' hat, a disguise which was very fetching on Ali but didn't work quite so well with my complexion. Iain was busy regaling Jackie about how intelligent I apparently was. Knowing me better she merely confirmed she had seen me stacking a dishwasher, putting suitcases into cars and other feats of unexceptional worth, so she shared the same vision. Unfortunately they then had to share another vision which was my kilt sliding slowly down during the sword dance with Ali. Clearly the builders bum had the onlookers rushing for the bar and very dark shades as the audience vanished pretty quick.