Patty's Paradise

Some people just don't deserve their country. That's certainly true of the British, our ratio of ugly, insensitive developments to beautiful surroundings being sadly weighted in favour of the former. And it's definitely true of the Spanish, who seem intent on raping their stunning landscapes with acre upon acre of concrete monstrosities. The building boom has seen big, boxy appartment blocks going up wherever there's the slightest bit of space and beautiful towns like Salamanca or Cordoba are becoming increasingly swathed in wastelands of depressing urban sprawl. On the Costa del Sol, huge hotels to feed the (often British...we definitely shoulder some of the blame here...) swarms of tourists have been mushrooming for some decades now. So too, the rash of white, balconied villas over the lush hillsides, facing what was once a charming and picturesque coastline...all too many of our fellow countrymen and women are living in those too.

It was with a mixture of horror and gloom that we passed by Malaga, Torremelinos and Marbella on our way down the Costa to Patty's alternative living campsite, near Estepona in the far south of Spain.

Patty herself collected us from a rendezvous point nearby and led us to the orchard below her house, only ten minutes walk from the nearest beach (very unspoilt for the Costa del Sol, with a view to the rock of Gibraltar and the Atlas Mountains in Africa) and boasting electricity hook-ups, plentiful fresh water, loo, hot showers and laundry facilities. For that, we are paying ten euros a day plus ten euros on top for unlimited and excellent wifi internet access. In fact, pretty much the same facilities we payed 25 euros a night for in Torre del Mar, Lisbon and Salamanca, but on a far smaller scale and in a scruffier, more unruly but much more friendly site.

We are now comfortably ensconced beneath a lemon tree with a bucket full of windfalls ready to be squeezed into home-made lemonade.