The town is empty. They are all in the brand new El Corte Ingles in Tarragona, which is sort of a Spanish version of Selfridges. The local shops are empty, the local bars are empty. It is the proverbial lull before the storm...except there is no storm because most people have headed off to their pueblos...and the rest are in Cuba or the Dominican Republic. So do not blow a fuse or burst a water pipe until mid-January.
Sometimes I drop into Google streetview to have a look around Rome or New York. This morning I traversed some streets of England, highly entertaining, and then found myself in Dollar, Scotland, and went on the walk to school as I did in the fifties and sixties. Once I found my childhood house my brain kicked into action. Just the outline of the Ochils, the bridge on the burnside, the graveyard...it hasn't changed?????? The trees are seriously bigger but it is still exactly the same. It was the oddest feeling to step back in time and follow my long invisible footsteps. The only difference being that Miss Tibbs, the cat, was not waiting on the graveyard wall for me.