I find it hard to believe. By the time this is published we will have been living in Spain for a couple of weeks, normally we would be heading back to England at this point.
As I write, I’m literally in the middle of Jesus Pobre’s Sunday market. My daughter lives in the village square and, on the first Sunday of every month, the farmers’ market gives way to an antique fair and moves to this location.
As yet I am without wi-fi in my own house, a mere 100 yards away, so take advantage of my daughter being on holiday in England to gain access to the Internet.
We arrived in Bilbao a fortnight ago and drove diagonally across the width of Spain to our new home.
Our seven-hour journey took us through the Basque region which at times reminded me more of Switzerland or Scotland than the typical Brit tourist view of the Costas.
Onwards through the Rioja wine-growing region and then across the Zaragossa Plain where we eventually peaked at 1,200m above sea level before dropping down into Valencia district - at last, our first view of palm trees.
We have been to Spain many times to visit our daughter and family but never from this direction.
It was strange enough driving south from Valencia, even stranger, driving in my own right-hand drive car. Once in the village we met up with Leanne and went to seek out our new house. We had not up until this point ever been in it, our daughter received our furniture while we were on our Far East adventure.
We were not disappointed. We have rented a three-bedroom town house with uninterrupted views over the Montgo National Park, the sea is three miles away. We are truly blessed to have found this property in a village we know so well.
Unlike some Brits who move out here, we have landed on our feet. Our daughter was married here and we know many of the locals. Yes, language is a difficulty, at the moment but we will learn it - we have to!
As for now, we are just enjoying gradually fitting in to a new life.