The last glow of the autumn sun finally fades behind the mountains. The lemon groves in the valley disappear from view and the still of the evening is broken only by the soft chirruping of cicadas.
Hang on, that's not the cicadas, that's my phone.
Oh s***, we're two down already?
Yes, it was only those pesky text messages from Burnley that disturbed what was otherwise a very peaceful and relaxing break in Majorca last week.
(I wondered at first whether the news of those early goals was a wind-up. Texts from other sources soon confirmed that it wasn't, though my suspicions were later aroused again when a wild and fanciful tale about Chris Brown scoring came through…)
It was definitely a good idea to get away for a while, not least because it's given me a more philosophical outlook on our club's current predicament.
It hasn't come from listening to 'Hakuna Matata' ? or 'No Worries' ? from my daughter's Lion King CD 100 times in five days. Did you know it's a song about a warthog's flatulence problems, by the way? I didn't until a week ago.
Rather, it's come from turning on the TV in the hotel room last Thursday and catching the end of a UEFA Cup match between Villarreal and Fiorentina.
Feel free to mock my ignorance where Italian football is concerned, but I was under the impression that Fiorentina had gone out of existence a few years ago. What were they doing playing in European competition again?
I've since discovered that the club did indeed go bust in June 2002 ? but soon after this, it was re-born as Florentia Viola and joined the fourth tier of Italian football. Since then, the club has climbed back up the leagues, reclaiming its old name on the way, and is now back amongst the elite.
This story of resurrection was a timely reminder that however bad things get, there is usually a way back. It may not always happen as quickly as it did for Fiorentina, but things do have a way of working out in the end.
It's not so long ago that Birmingham and Manchester City were in the third tier. Wolves were in the old Fourth Division for a few seasons during the 1980s. And in 1987, last week's opponents Burnley only avoided dropping out of the Football League with a win on the final day of the season.
I'm having to suppress the urge at this point to burst into a chorus of 'Circle of Life' (that Lion King CD is infuriatingly catchy, it has to be said), so let's try to keep a lid on it with a quote from the Peter Sellers film 'Being There'.
If you're not familiar with it, Sellers plays Chance, a simple-minded gardener whose utterances are mistaken for profound political philosophy:
Chance: 'In the garden, growth has its seasons. First comes spring and summer, but then we have fall and winter. And then we get spring and summer again?
US President's Advisor: 'I think what our insightful young friend is saying is that we welcome the inevitable seasons of nature, but we're upset by the seasons of our economy.
Chance: 'Yes. There will be growth in the spring…
President: 'Hmm. Well, Mr Gardener, I must admit that is one of the most refreshing and optimistic statements I've heard in a very, very long time.
As a simple-minded non-gardener, I say this: as bleak as things are at the moment ? and we have never been this low in my lifetime ? we will have success again.
It may be a long time coming. Things could well get worse before they get better. Even with over 30 games left, my gut feeling is that we'll go down this season.
(If you think that's overly pessimistic, consider this letter which appeared in the Sunday People in 1977: ?After three games this season, I know my club Birmingham City are going to be relegated. Is this a record??)
But the situation is a bit more bearable if you understand that every club is going to have its bad times. Sometimes really, really bad times.
This is when you pay your dues as a supporter. These are the times which make success all the sweeter when it comes.
We need to look forward to a time when we can look back at this time and say, 'I was there when we were at our lowest ebb..'
I'm certainly not suggesting, though, that we should simply shrug our shoulders and resign ourselves to our current predicament. Quite the opposite, in fact.
It's time to show our pride in our club again. To demonstrate that as bad as things are, there is no other club for us.
It's not a question of being a mug, or a sheep, or even a mug with a picture of a sheep on it. It's not about a show of support for the board, or even for their latest choice of manager. (Welcome and good luck, Glenn, by the way…)
It's about making it clear, not least to our visitors from down the A140, that we love Norwich City even if things are going badly on the pitch.
If they want to taunt us about being bottom of the league, let them. We're big enough to take it on the chin. (Yes, I know, my chin's plenty big enough for anything.)
And we can smile at them, knowing that our time will come again, just as it did after that darkest of days in 1998 when we lost 5-0 at Portman Road.
Blimey, that's two columns in a row from me which have ended on a positive note. That medication is really kicking in now…
Does anyone else think it's a bit odd that the ultra-reclusive, publicity-shunning Marcus Evans should have called his company The Marcus Evans Group?