Coming back to the same town every year, you notice changes in topography and in the faces of the people you meet. The disappearance of cars from the sea front and the new paving which extends up hill to the church and cemetery changes the atmosphere almost entirely for the better, allowing an uninterrupted view of waves breaking on the sand a few yards away from the front of the hotel where we have breakfast and from our balcony. Changes in the contours of faces is slighter but still apparent (a reminder of how one´s own face must have noticeably changed in the course of a year. Some look thinner, the result of exercise or dieting or both; some look plumper; all look a little older. Some shoulders of people older than us are more bowed; some legs move more slowly. But these changes unlike the topographical changes are not for dwelling on. You note them and look up at the ever changing, unchanging sky.
Sitges is not a smart town, not a place where you have to worry about what you wear or don´t wear. But one feature which strikes you as you watch passers by on the sea front is the variety of their dogs. "It´s like Crufts," says Heidi. And indeed we count the breeds in the daily parade in front of the small bay. Of those we can identify we have noted at least one borzoi, bulldog, bassett hound, scottie, West Highland terrier, Yorkshire terrie, Pomeranian, chiuaua, labrador, dalmatian, schnauzer, various spaniels and other breeds or blends which we couldn´put a name to.
In the gents in our favourite restaurant, I put my hand under the soap dispenser, and behold the soap appears on my waiting palm, which has made contact with nothing, its release dependent only on the proximity of my hand. A piece of technology, which somehow makes you feel cosseted.