We’re walking down Long Street in the centre of Jerez on our way to inspect a house for sale and we notice a young woman struggling to get a bike through the doorway to an apartment complex.

Jerez has its own colour palette. In San Sebastian, Jess tinkered with watercolours and came up with some amazing stuff – particularly for a beginner.

Yesterday I was at home threatening the cat and Jess asked me if we were out of butifarra. I said that I don't think so, but if you get caught short there are some tissues in the cupboard.

Under the ancient, gargantuan fig tree in the plaza 100 yards from our front door a festive crowd is going off to Zambomba. Zambomba is Christmas flamenco for the masses.

Having eaten out daily since we arrived here eight weeks ago I can report that the hospitality operators in Jerez – even the ones running touristy joints – go out of their way to provide exemplary service and are among the friendliest folk in the country.

"You'll struggle down south – their accent is really difficult to understand." This from a San Sebastian local a few months ago when we told him about our impending move to Jerez, at the opposite end of the country.

If you've ever seen flamenco you'll know that it's the dancing-and-singing equivalent of punching a baboon in the face and then attempting to make love to it.

You don't get much sleep the night before you take a cat who's prone to bouts of stress-induced diarrhoea on a plane. Pets here are allowed to travel in the cabin with you.