Helen and Theresa have been building steps to the entrance of their house, and the neighbours have been coming round to say something-or-other is seriously wrong about this, but with their limited Spanish, they couldn’t make out what the problem was. About the only bit they understood was “Police” and “Fine”. (Fine as in taking money off you, not fine as in OK.) This is enough to send anybody’s blood pressure up.
So they spent the night here last night, and this morning Helen stayed with my son Julio (his teachers are on strike) and I drove Theresa over to their Town Hall, right the other side of the island. It took two hours to get there via the spectacular old north road, with only two short stops for photos (hey, this is me!). We found the planning office with no trouble, but the lady we needed to see was elsewhere. So we waited.
When she finally arrived, she was very helpful. Since other people need to pass over my friends’ land to get to their fields, they have to keep the right of way open at all times, and they need official permission to do anything to it. But she agreed that what they wanted to do was sensible, and they made an honest mistake in starting before they got permission. So it’s effectively a rubber stamp.
Theresa’s very organised, and had all the papers needed, so they should have it sorted out in three weeks.
By then it was lunchtime, so we ate in a local bar. And I took this photo of the church before heading back. 
