This being Spain, it did not seem all that unusual that the only way of reaching my nice big balcony was through the lavatory window. It was a French window, which made it easier.

I wanted to get to the balcony to clean my shoes. Obviously, cleaning shoes is safer on a balcony than in the bedroom, where little bits of dark tan get on the coverlet, no matter how carefully the polish is deployed. And, although I’m on holiday, the shoes have to be cleaned because Spaniards (of my age) expect it. They can’t help it. It is an unspoken rule, like keeping your feet off the table.

My other motive in climbing on to the balcony was for a good view of Zafra, a pleasingly obscure old town in Extremadura.

As I buffed, I watched the stork on its wheel of flotsam nest nearby, as it occasionally made the clacking noise that is such a welcome sound from these birds of blessing.

Really it had no right to be there, any more than I, since it should have flown hundreds of miles away for the winter. But word has got round in the stork community that it is quite comfortable to overwinter in Spain and save the wing-work. This is said to be because of ready takeaways for storks from landfill sites – although I think there must be more to it than that.

Anyway, storks are associated with churches, and this one was presiding over the church of Santa Marina. Unfortunately it was being more faithful to the ways of its ancestors than the descendants of the church-builders have been. St Marina’s is now a concert hall.