I wasn’t born into any of this – the horses, the land, or the relentless Levante wind that barrels through the Strait of Gibraltar. But Andalusia has always exerted a pull I have been unable to shake. Last year, at 40, after five years of living in Ibiza – the longest I’d stayed in one place since my teenage years – I bought La Sierrazuela, an 18th-century olive grove cortijo not far from Arcos de la Frontera. Being half Spanish, I was ready for a place with real roots.

