It is 1960. Spain is still a dark, medieval country. Outside the big cities there is no electricity. Half the peasant population is illiterate and in the iron grip of the church.
I arrive, travel around the country on creaky old buses with armed guards sat at the back. I walk the ragged roads, take part in the local fiestas, attend church to see the girls, and serenade them on their balconies at the evening paseo.
Finally, in a mountain village where only I and the village priest can read, I become the eyes on the outside world, and read the newspapers every evening to the assembled village. I am the last link with the past before television will make me obsolete. It's time somebody told this story.