Despite our best intentions, we were late setting out again this morning.
I didn’t wake up till 0900 and even then it was the sound of the kettle that brought me to life. Since we’ve been here it has fallen to me to make the first cup of tea. Primarily because it’s been cold in the mornings and Jaki moans so much if the temperature is anything under 25 degrees that it’s just not worth discussing sharing this task.
But this morning she must have had a rush of blood as she got out of her bunk (2 x Duvet’s and a blanket) and switched the kettle on. At which point she must have woken up and realised her mistake cause when it boiled she was tucked up in bed and refusing to move.
After several cups of tea she roused herself and set off for the women’s block mumbling about icy conditions and how she wished she’d brought her winter dressing gown. By the time shed returned I’d made up the bed, set up the table, boiled the kettle and had bread in the toaster.
Then we began the morning ritual of wandering down to reception to log onto the watery service they call Whiffy’ (yes that’s what they call it here, it wasn’t a mispronunciation) to catch up with family and friends and primarily to see if Georgia has posted anything on Facebook.
But this morning the idiosyncratic Whiffy was being particularly difficult and only a simulacrum of true 4G. In other words, we pissed around for ages and got nowhere.
One added complication was the lack of a mobile signal for the phone. Jaki was waiting for the result of some tests she’d had before we left and the GP’s had promised (honest Indians) that they would phone her as soon as they heard. But like anyone on £160,000 per year, they forgot. So she was anxious about this till she phoned and got the all clear.
She must have radiated lascivious ness as a result of this cause a guy pulled up along side us at the bus stop and gave himself some DIY whilst sat in his van.
Strange how despite the changes to ones circumstances or environment we start to set up systems. Our behaviour assumes pattern’s, even subconsciously.
So, when we set out for the bus stop, it was at exactly the same time as yesterday. The bus driver was the same one, some of the people on the bus were the same including the loquacious lady from yesterday, though her backing group was reduced to one, must be austerity.
We got off and were greeted by the same dilettante touts for the tour bus, though today they were welcomed as we did want to purchase tickets but there was no bus, so we took a stroll around the Plaza de Espana which was absolutely stunning and I hope to publish some photos soon.
Once on the bus, Jaki plugged in and I tuned out. We spent a good hour or two touring Sevilla in the sunshine before hopping of just outside Sevilla bull ring to find somewhere for lunch.
It wasn’t long before we were tucking into a bottle of iced white wine and a selection of Tapa’s, though my steak cooked in Whiskey and orange was a bit disappointing. I ended up giving it to a beggar who approached us whilst we were eating, so I just ended up with chips.
The busker who came and gave us a tune on his Spanish guitar was well worth the €2 I paid him and all in all it was a great lunch.
We returned on the same bus with the same driver as last night but with a twist.
As we had given all our change to various beggars, street performers or assorted waiters, we only had a €20 note for the bus fare which the driver refused to take. So I had to jump off the bus, run to a stall and buy a bottle of water then sprint back to the bus before it left me behind.
As Kev would say. “What with these feet”!