DRIVING across Spain recently we were struck by the beauty of the windmills.
Not those old ones in La Mancha, beloved of Don Quixote, most of which are now run down, without sails and converted into decrepit dwellings.
No! It’s those new tall slender white ones, with their sails gracefully revolving in perfect synchronisation.
Lined up in rows across successive hilltops, they move with all the elegance and precision of a 1930s Hollywood chorus number.
Their beauty transforms areas of outstanding natural nothingness into a landscape to marvel at.
What a pity we are not able to enjoy a spectacle like this here. When will their short-sighted opponents realise that there is nothing beautiful about an empty expanse of grey sea?
ROBIN DAVIES, Portarlington Close, Bournemouth
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