Casa Davison is usually a secure environment, but you cannot let your guard down when sitting. Local beggars can forage any time and they covet others vegetable gardens. I gave peanuts and shandy to a shady pair and sent them on their way – stay alert folks
The volunteer day at the Artillery Museum was spent mostly watching a team of crane handling Spanish military guys work with complete disregard to any forward planning. Neither main task made it to completion, but if the barracks has CCTV I think there’s enough material for a ‘Carry on Caballero’s” film. 
A gun carriage the same weight as Frankia was sat with the barrel resting on painting trestles!
The crane made four manoeuvres for each manoeuvre needed. Stabilising hydraulic legs were lowered one at a time, then a lift made, then each leg raised, a pointless manoeuvre made, the driver puts down his cigarette, climbs down, hydraulic legs lowered, cigarette recovered and climb into the crane cab – all at Mediterranean pace. 
Stu (aka Axel Grinder) was happy in his green romper suit, he is very much a hand-on-hips worker. With the noise of the crane affecting communication he has the capacity to revert to sign language when questioned on load handling
Andrew and Stu passed the down time with hide-and-seek
Draw lots, and its Stu’s turn to go hide:
count to 20
peek a boo – found you
Back home: The house needed water deliveries, which I managed to miss first time. The delivery was slightly overdue, I locked up, showered and did not hear the tanker/horn. It’s a bugger running low on water and the tanker is no tonka toy, a big journey for the driver to take the hills returning with a full load. The return visit was on time, the space needed marginal
All topped up, the new pump I’ve fitted ready to irrigate the gardens, the driver happy with enough euros to give me a gracias and broad smile after I also dropped a “la siento” which I hope means apologies for the mix-up.
Geriatric Gap Years 