THE days of dressing up like a giant penis and walking down the streets of Malaga could be doomed under new proposals put forward by the local council.
Lonely beaches reminded Paul of Cornwall
At a waterside restaurant on the Costa da Morte, in the far north-west corner of the Iberian Peninsula, I sat in the shade of a palm tree listening to the plish-plash of the waves as I made my way through a plate of scallops and a glass or two, or three, of apple-fresh albariño. Mine was one of just three tables for lunch. Across the water, a fishing boat chugged into Corme harbour. It was hard to know whether this sense of easeful quiet was normal, “new normal” or quite uncharacteristic: either way, it was doing me good.