Last day of workshops and Jose Antonio, a local sculptor came to make Goya's huge hands that we hope will engulf the audience as they enter the park. He told us that the painter often worked late into the night wearing a huge top hat with candles waxed to the brim. No wonder his images are filled with flickering shadows.
Meanwhile a brave band of volunteers were kitted out in what remained of the anti-contamination suits and were choreographed into a rough and wild bat ballet inspired by The Sleep of Reason.
And so slowly something emerges. The lanterns are wired, the tunnel is built and lies drying in the sun, the stuffed para gliders wait to be positioned in the trees and the paper aeroplane invitations with messages from the children written on their wings sit in boxes waiting to be unleashed in the square tomorrow night.
My sad problem now is that I have to come back to England on Sunday, ready for the new term and so I won't get to see the show, which will take place after mass.