Thank god for Michael Fish. Sunday 30th March.

Being a ‘Weather Man’ (or Woman obviously) must be the solution to the financial crisis and Youth unemployment.

Why not give a weather forecasters job to everyone. No training needed. Immediate start, work from home (just look out the window and tell us what you see or in an emergency, make some thing up) easy.

It must be one of the only jobs where being Crap is a prerequisite, except of course for the Bristol City Managers job, oh, and the Mayor of Bristol.

Leave it now Billy.

Yesterday the weather forecast for today was overcast and cloudy with a 60% chance of rain. We woke to blue skies and scorching sunshine.

On the back of the weather forecast our planned trip to Cadiz on the ferry was put off till Monday. So, were doing all the chores, and then plan to cycle into town to find lunch.

I’m not sure we’ll find Roast Beef and Yorkshire pudding though there is an Irish bar (there always is) which is advertising a roast dinner but that’s a bit too obvious, though later in the journey it may become a contender. But for now well probably find a local Taverna, or there are two good fish restaurants down by the Harbour.

The site looks so much better today and to be fair it’s got a lot going for it.

But there are still some niggles and you ask yourself why they ( the Spanish or the owners, I’m not sure) don’t sort them out?

This morning I’m merrily making a Jam Sandwich with the last bit of stale
bread when the urge to visit the loo comes over me, Turbo charged. So I scurry across the site clutching the essential, wet wipes for the seat and Ansol.

I had a rather embarrassing experience once with a tube of Anusol (well twice actually if you count the time I had to call into my mate Will’s house and borrow a squirt whilst on a night out. He a Martyr to Piles is Will). I had been drinking and inserted the tube in the correct manner and gave a gentle squeeze. Nothing happened. I squeezed again, still nothing. So I gave the tube a right old wrench. Sadly In my stupor I’d left the cap on the end of the tube and with 3 bar pressure it took off like a Saturn rocket. Funny how quickly you sober up when that happens.

Back to today.

When I get there though I remember there is no toilet paper provided so the clean seat has to be sourced from those available and the wet wipe put to better use.

Then there’s no soap, no hot water but there is a Han drier. Though why as nobody seems to wash their hands anyway?

The showers though are what I like to call ‘Limpet Showers’.

There’s plenty of hot water but it only falls within two inches of the wall which means you have to flatten yourself against the tiles to get wet. I’ve actually got the impression of a Spanish Galleon imbedded in my back. I thought I might get it permanently tattooed but it would be more like painting by numbers than real art.

There’s Also a nice stainless steel shelf which is positioned just so it can crack you across the elbow whilst washing your hair. Judging by the dents in it, this happens on a regular basis.

However, I’m now clean, relaxed, heavily bandaged but sitting in the Sun, doing what I like to do.

Moaning!

Happy Mother’s Day.

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