Looking over the gathering of houses which makes up our local village is a mountain… a small mountain, or a large hill. Jagged grey limestone, weathered by centuries of sun, wind and frost. Atalaya translates as ‘watchtower’ and Pablo confirms that the mountain was indeed a Moorish outlook centuries ago. A quick check in the back of my road atlas confirms that there are 17 towns or villages called some version of Atalaya around Spain. This is ours. We are very fond of our mountain, when we are driving home from a long journey we know we are almost home once we spot it on the horizon. It changes shape as we drive around it, and as the sun moves through the sky.