Spain

We were on a package holiday in the south of Spain (OK, I admit it - a Saga do) when one of the party was taken ill and rushed off to hospital. I enquired of our tour guide what would now happen and she said that it was now out of Saga's hands but in the very reliable hands of the hospital authority.
Reliable? I thought. Spain reliable? I thought. Not in my young days it wasn't. Not while holidaying on the Costa Brava. Then everything had a sort of dirtyness about it. The toilets were abominable, fly infested places. Hotel rooms were dingy. And the police were scary.
"Things have changed," said our guide. "Those days were when Franco was in power. Now it's different. I tell you, I would not be treated in the NHS back home; I get treated here in Spain."
That was the second time I had heard that, the first being the words of Tom Sharpe the novelist who lives in Spain. It was the chief reason he lived there, he said.
Now I read in The Times that 30% of Spain's entire power output is produced by wind and water.
"What is the truth with us in Britain?" Matthew Parris moans. We just sit around complaining that wind power is variable. That is, not reliable.
And there's me thinking that Spain was all dirty toilets, bull fighting, paella and sun, whereas it's clean reliable hospitals, reliable wind power and sun. Yes, and sun! Surely we've got more wind than Spain.
And less sun!