I love Spain. I love the food, I love the price of wine in restaurants, I love the fact that I don't feel like a complete imbecile when I'm there because I can speak a little of their language, and I love the fact you can watch top-flight football without your bank account taking a pounding.
But there are things about Spain that trouble me, peculiarities that defy reasonable explanation.
One of them, for example, is the curious way in which some Spanish men drape pastel coloured V-neck sweaters over their shoulders.
Another is the poor record of Spain's national football team. So many talented players but so little success at major tournaments equates to one of life's great imponderables.
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