Mrs Down's Diary

No-one was happier than John, though. He couldn't wait to get back to his cows, sheep and dogs, and we were not allowed to stop for any stocking-up of provisions on the way home from the airport. Fortunately I had planned for this and am currently in the midst of a major defrosting operation.

Geoff had looked after the farm well and there had been only one casualty. An old Friesian cow had died.

She calved about a fortnight ago and John had treated her for mastitis (an infection in her udder) soon after. She seemed to have responded well but Geoff was concerned over her and called the vet in. Sadly, despite treatment, she expired. Another orphan calf to foster.

The best bit of our holiday was a day spent with a guide, Stephen Daly, bird watching.

My sister's house, where we were staying, is in Andulacia. Salt marshes, beaches and the sierra are all readily accessible. Our guide took us close to the famous sherry-making area of Jerez. And into the bodegas.

Despite generous samplings of wine and sherry, we managed to refocus on the day's activities and head off to birdland.

We have never had a day like it. John is now able to name birds he has seen at home but never identified. Cornbuntings, calandra larks, stone curlew and spoonbills were a special thrill. Flamingoes commonplace.

Most exciting of all was watching an osprey feeding nonchalantly from the top of a telegraph pole on a dusty track. He balanced a huge fish between his talons, tearing great lumps from his prey, apparently oblivious to us and our binoculars and camera.

Then we came one step too close. He glanced up, spread his wings, passed a motion (contempt, I wonder?) and flapped off into the sky after shifting the grip on his fish so that it faced forward. Magic.

Later, we stopped for lunch in the midst of an area which specialised in growing vegetables and fruit in long poly tunnels.

Many of the workers in the fields and tunnels are apparently from Ecuador.

As we in England have a large eastern European population working in our market garden and vegetable industries, in Spain it is the South Americans who are prepared to carry out the back-breaking task of planting out and harvesting under the heat of the sun.

As we ate inside the venta (restaurant/cafe), the Ecuadorians gathered for drinks and cigarettes outside, presumably in their lunch break.

Later, the South Americans returned to work in the field behind where we were watching redshanks, ringed plovers and flamingoes in the salt marsh and a booted eagle in the sky.

Suddenly we were presented with bunches of carrots and a request for cigarettes.

None of us smoked and we were embarrassed not to be able to return their act of generosity (notwithstanding it was the farmers' carrots).

Then I remembered I had a bag of Marks and Spencer mint assortment in the car. Was that acceptable?

You bet. Cries of "Thankyoooo Inglesi" rose up from the field. I could take to this. Distributing largesse. Very feudal.

Then bunches of onions were added to the carrots. No good to us. We were on holiday and cooking was not on my agenda but Stephen was delighted. "The children will eat tonight ," he said. As if.

This feature was first published in the West Sussex Gazette March 12. To read it first buy the West Sussex Gazette every Wednesday.