Today we had a meeting at the school where I work and as always I started to prepare myself by acting out what I might say if asked about the discipline or lack of for example. I was thinking something on the lines of 'well, you know how Spain had forty years or so of Fascism? Well, now it is approaching the tail end of forty years of anarchy'. I always want to say something glib like 'they might be a difficult bunch but it's better than getting stabbed in Poplar'. At least children here resemble my idea of what a kid should look and behave like, but attitude problems, verbal abuse and trousers hanging off the arse amongst other imports are already creeping in.

Yesterday I found myself doing H's favourite pastime which is hanging out the kitchen window watching the world go by when two men I took to be brothers, as in some blokes who may or may not work for Hermanos Cruz Blanca or one of the other many religious organisations here started shouting up at me to open the door. They seemed relatively 'normal' so I did and soon realised they were Mr C's brothers when they started asking me if Mr C was alone in the flat. One of the brothers started to bemoan that 'she', the 'wife', couldn't leave 'him' locked up in 'there', 'like a dog', the irony being lost on everyone but me and Piti upstairs. In a few minutes one of them told me 'they' wanted to put Mr C in a home and then asked if 'she' goes out at night to which I launched into one and said 'they' had no idea what has been going on for the past ten years. The conversation was short as Mrs C or 'she' as she is known to his 'family' rolled up and 'I', having put up with their shennanigans for so long was not about to get too cosy with the rest of the clan. It's all starting to get a bit Alan Bennett latin stylee.

Also, H was reading out the details of Mr Strauss-Khan the IMF chief who allegedly assaulted a hotel maid. Said details were long and started to include other allegations, and in my so-called puritanical mind were all rather sordid and disgraceful, but the bit that summed it up was when H paused, looked up at me and said, 'he's French'.