Such a civilised life here in Murtas far from the madding Costa and high up in the fresh air of the Alpujarra. Growing our own, spending little, stillliving the good life.
Yup. Regular Tom and Barbara Good - that's us.
But this week, returning from a visit home to Ireland, I discovered something that made me weep.
Cleaning the kitchen - at least I think it's the kitchen, it's where I left it, under there somewhere. As I busied myself by evicting the newly formed Penicillin in the fridge, and wondering how Stan and the kid were still alive, THUMP, I felt the bottom drop out of my world.
We had run out of dishwasher tablets.
Arrgh. We may like the idea of organic living, but there is no way we can do without Davina the dishwasher, I can tell you now, hand firmly on heart - yes, it's there somewhere - I would challenge for custody of that white box of cubic metre miracles anyday in a divorce court.
Okay, breathe, slowly, in and out.
First: Local shops. Tienes pastillas para lavavajillas?
Into next village where we were running an errand. Same question. Ah Si, allí....pointing to anti-cal thingys for washing machines. Nope, for dishwashers, more blank staring.
Explaining, slowly, all the actions and noises. At last, she looked up with a bright smile. I know, she exclaimed - just wash them by hand!
Is she CRAZY?????
Finally, I got them in the Big Smoke - known as Ugíjar - I know, it's unpronounceable - and the world was put to rights.
Now, where's the fabric softener gone?
By Peter van der Sluijs (Own work) [GFDL (http://www.gnu.org/copyleft/fdl.html) or CC-BY-SA-3.0-2.5-2.0-1.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0)], via Wikimedia Commons