I'm pretty sure I've mentioned this story before on another thread, but as you've asked..
After a long camino, which began in Chartres, following the Via Turonensis, and ended in SdC, I still had three weeks remaining of the time I'd allotted myself, so decided to see how far back I could walk before my time ran out. I was quite worried about what might be open, specifically on Christmas Day, so I cast my mind back to all the refugios in which I'd stayed, and decided I'd try my luck in Mansilla de las Mulas.
The young hospitalera there, well-known to many on this forum, was Laura, in her first year of service, and quite disgruntled about having being given the job by her mother, then mayor of the town. I'm 100% sure that she didn't envisage 20-odd years of caring for pilgrims at that point! Anyway, despite having seen almost no pilgrims throughout the entirety of my walk (ida y vuelta), I used Christmas Eve to stock up on huge quantities of food and drink, in case there was a surprise influx of pilgrims. In fact, only one other pilgrim arrived that day, a sanctimonious born-again Basque gentleman, who proceeded to spend hours trying to lecture me on what a bad pilgrim I was, and how I shouldn't have squandered money on stocking the fridge, but should, instead, have spent the day in silent contemplation of the true significance of Christmas etc.
Fortunately for me, Laura, desperate to escape her family Christmas, dropped in to take me out on the town, which was a blessed release, even though Xabino trailed along disapprovingly for a while. He moved along the next day (Christmas Day) to be replaced by a lovely Belgian cardiac nurse, who was doing the camino to mark his 40th year, and sporting a large yellow sunflower to brighten up his all-black apparel. I wish I could remember his name, rather than that of the grumpy Basque.