Having introduced Matthew to the joys of mopping by candlelight, all returned to normal quite quickly.

Jose Manuel came to have a look at the damage, in order to work out how best to sort the various leaks. The clay tiles on the roof are apparently more fragile when wet, so he did not want to walk on them. His diagnosis was that the tap dancing ostriches had probably dislodged some tiles looking for insects and the internet people had most likely cracked some of the tiles around the chimney when they fixed the gubbins up there. (I do not know the Spanish for gubbins, but then, I do not know the English terminology either.)

The stream running through the barn was another matter. He suggested that we dig a deep trench across the front of the barn and fill it with waterproof concrete, so that any future run off would divert around the barn and flow harmlessly on downhill.

He recommended that we have the flat roof tanked, to prevent any further trouble. It is far too hot in the summer to think of using it as a sun terrace, so we were happy to go with his suggestion of a bituminous roll with a reflective backing.

Any damage that was going to happen had already happened, so we agreed to wait until the house dried a little and he could arrange for his men to come and do the work. Three weeks later, everything was sorted for a very reasonable price.

The day after the downpour, we left Matthew to sleep off the worst of the travel and mopping while we went to buy Christmas food.

We were just loading ginger wine and Christmas pudding into our trolley when we received a message from our friend Harvey:

‘Hi both, I’m in hospital. Can Geoff stand in for Santa at the school?’

We had previously discussed the coincidence that Geoff and Harvey both had the build and temperament for a bit of Ho Ho Ho-ing, so a couple of calls later, we had Geoff cued up for his first ever outing in the large red and white suit.

Obviously, the reason for him stepping in was not what we would have wanted, but the Friday morning was a total joy. One of the teachers told us afterwards that a little boy who had always been terrified of Father Christmas had been one of those who had flung their arms around him for a cuddle.  I have no idea what UK rules and regulations would have made of the impromptu visit and the numerous photographs taken by various people. I am just very glad that we came away with some delightful memories and gorgeous pictures of little ones dressed up as elves and fairies.

As we had decorated the house before Matthew arrived, we were far ahead of where we normally are in the Christmas game. I even had the Christmas cake iced before Boxing Day! We did, however, still need to organise our Belén, or Nativity scene. It has become a tradition that each year we add another animal or piece of scenery to our slightly non-conformist display.

The Belén is very big in Andalucia. Every town and many villages have large Nativity scenes set up over the Christmas period. This is not an ox, an ass, a couple of drippy-looking sheep and the Holy Family in a shoe box stable: this is more like a whole model village, with houses and shops, blacksmiths, carpenters, washer women, flocks of sheep, ponds, windmills, cattle, geese, ducks, wise men on camels, angels galore and usually, tucked in a corner somewhere, a little man – how can I put this delicately? – having a dump. Apparently, his function is to let us know that in the middle of all the holy stuff, with theology and Gloria in Excelsis all around, nobody is so grand that they don’t need a poo!

We do not have the funding or space for a grand display, but we do have enthusiasm, a complete disregard for scale and a knitted finger puppet turkey, which has been standing in for the Angel Gabriel for years. With a cork stuffed up his finger hole, he stands atop the stable, his wings spread wide, gazing down benevolently upon our Little Town of Bethlehem.

This year, we found another couple of buildings, a rather splendid duck and some more people to add. We decided upon a scheme where the larger animals stood near the front, so we could say they just looked big because of perspective. The standard lamp was positioned so that it shed its light upon the scene, as if there really was a star above the stable, shining brightly.

Now everything was ready for Christmas.

Because Geoff was gigging in Christmas day, we decided to go Spanish and have our big meal on Christmas Eve. The celebration wine glasses were dusted off, the table was set with crackers and gold chargers and the house began to smell of every Christmas in every house where turkey and tinsel, sprouts and parsnips are the guests of honour.

Dave and Lesley, without any mops or buckets, shared the evening with us. It was a relaxed and enjoyable time with good friends and family, after which, we turned in fairly early, having hung our stockings in conspicuous places. (Actually, lined up along the sofa, but metaphorically hung.)

Christmas Day was a very low key affair. We opened our presents together and then Geoff headed off for his gig on the coast. The dogs were resplendent in their new collars and very chuffed with the lovely toys Matthew had brought for them. Matthew and I sloped about eating rubbish and drinking tea. I made a batch of sausage rolls and a couple of jars of lemon curd. You cannot beat fresh lemon curd made from lemons straight off the tree and eggs still warm from the nest box, and I had been meaning to make some for friends for weeks.

Robin and Julie, who live a couple of villages further down the valley, had invited us to spend the evening with them, so once Geoff had finished crooning on the coast, we went and joined them. The house was full, with a young family adding to the fantastic atmosphere. Julie had laid on a veritable feast, so we enjoyed another traditional Christmas dinner before opening presents from under the tree.

We returned home well-stuffed, happy and grateful for the good people who have become so much part of our lives since we moved up here.

The dogs were glad to see us, as always, and we reassured them that we would leave it a day or so before we gadded of on a flamingo hunt without them. But more of that another time.