En la comisaría

Late last night I discovered that some low-life had somehow cloned my credit card, and had used it for purchases of over 700€, 350€ of which were to an online poker site. I don't use the card very often and it never leaves my sight when I do - the rest of the time it's safely hidden in a purse in my handbag, which I'm careful to never leave lying about. This has only happened to me once before, with a UK-registered VISA card, and the company alerted me to "unusual activity" straight away - another gambling site - and restored the balance. No such checks seem to be in place with this local card however, as daily purchases have been made since the end of last month on the mainland and online. I know this is an incredibly boring first-world problem but it really got me riled. Cash is tight and I really can't afford to be robbed in this way.
Most of today was spent queuing at and explaining in the tiny temporary premises of my bank, the usual office being closed for refurbishment, and the employee who deals with my account being away on yet another holiday. My first job was in a bank - maybe I should have stuck with it. After that it was queuing in and attempting to report a crime in two different police stations. The bank sent me to the Policía Local by the town hall, which was fronted by a rather chubby dishevelled character behind the desk with no English at all, but sent me off to the offices of the guardia civil on the other side of town. Apart from being much better turned out, the front man being a fine example of toned physical fitness in a perfectly fitting immaculately ironed nicer uniform with guns and torture instruments dangling from the belt, he was equally unhelpful but in an aloof, disdainful way. The first chap was kind and apologetic but this one was a real hardass. Eventually I got to see a very nice female crime squad officer who apologised for her poor (near perfect) English, and filled out the necessary statement of the crime to take back to the bank. Another queue there later, the unhelpful clerk said it would take 2-3 weeks to refund the card, which was cancelled. It was made clear to him that 2-3 weeks without money was not an option, and miraculously the balance was restored right away. Bureaucracy here is just crazy. It did bring home to me though that I ought to make a renewed effort to learn the language. I don't want to be the typical ex-pat here just talking louder rather than using the Spanish words - so embarrassing. There's a guy here who can't understand numbers so just puts down a 50€ note in supermarkets rather than work out the price. He must have a barrel full of change at home. I learned Spanish at school, later did an OU course, and when I first came here had one to one lessons with a teacher, but since my brain injury have found it nigh impossible to learn and retain new things. This distresses me a lot as learning was my hobby, my thing, my reason for being.
Better stop now as this rant is assuming epic proportions, and is as nothing compared with the horrors going on in the world.