We arrived mid-afternoon after a two-and-a-bit hour delay to our flight, followed by another hour stuck in the airport when our pre-booked taxi driver turned out to be waiting for us in Madrid. Thankfully he eventually gave the gig to another amigo.
And all of this happened after Vanessa was violently ill on the tarmac in Leeds with what appears to have been a bout of food poisoning (I’m a trier, not a cook).
That meant that when we did eventually reach our hotel (you’re most welcome, I’m the only one awake), Vanessa wasn’t very well and I had to take the kids for tapas all on my ownsome.
To be fair, it was hardly a chore.
Also, as you may have spotted, pints were off the menu. Replaced by litres.
Don’t worry, I worked it.
As it happens, the home of the Spanish football giants is just a stopover. Tomorrow we head over le border to France for a week in a shanty village. I may have further comment about that in the coming days.
After our tapas, Vanessa joined us to see lots of water fall out of the air (I thought we’d come abroad to avoid such eventualities).
We were watching the “Magic Fountains” and they were genuinely spectacular (whilst the huge crowd watched cross-legged).
We set sail for France (on the train, so I’m lying) at 9.30am tomorrow European time, which means another early start. But hey, what else would we be doing?
I’ve only been in France twice before. Let’s hope that this time the locals understand at least a bit of I’m saying.
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