Saturday 29th June 2023

All good things come to an end.

And it was time to come home.

We woke at just before seven, with our flight leaving at half eleven, giving us four hours to pack our overnight stuff, have breakfast and drive the 6km to the airport.



Not even we could get lost in that short distance, could we? We had showers, got dressed, and one last sweep round the room, we went downstairs to load the car and have breakfast. I left behind my small camera bag, bought in Portland, Oregon, in 2015, and has been a great buy. But the stitching is failing now, and is uncomfortable to wear, so that'll save room.

Also left behind were my old walking shoes, too worn out now to be of much use except in a town, certainly not in a muddy wood or on a chalk down.

We had huge amounts of room.

After breakfast we followed the sat nav to the main road, then to the next junction and within just 2km of the airport, I took the wrong turn.

I will say in my defence, matching what was on the screen to what I saw out of the car was difficult, but we found ourselves in an area of industrial units, and the only way out to the airport was blocked by roadworks.

But there was a diversion.

After a few minutes of doubt, we emerged at the airport, found the hire car return and were there.

Phew.

We dropped the keys off, and went to the terminal, joining the queue at the British Airways desk. Two hours before flight time, the desks opened and we began to move, getting to the front in about 20 minutes.

No delay at security, turn left to go through immigration to have our passports stamped. And we were at the gate.

We used the last of the change to buy some snacks, then waited, watching people, at which airports offer the best people watching.

The flight was called, but we hold back. I mean we have allocated seats, so why worry? Other than to have an overhead space for my cameras. Some carry on bags are so big now they really are suitcases, just to avoid the checking in, so the race is always on to secure a space for your oversized bag or case.

We wait to get on, then I find a space for my bag down the plane, but those behind me struggle, but they all stow their bags, the engines start and the air con starts pumping. It was going to be 32 in Valencia, and was already very warm.

Doors closed, the plane pushed back, and that was that. A short taxi to the runway, engines roar, and we leap off down the runway, jumping into the air, circling low over the city before flying off across the sea.

The flight was uneventful, flying mostly above or through cloud.

Two hours later, we were above England, and on approach over Windsor Castle, preparations of the coronation are well under way, with a huge stage being set up and a village of marquees already put up. And it is the taxpayer who is footing the bill, not Charlie.

Oh no.

We land, and have to wait for a space to disembark, and when we do, we were two of the last off. But not to worry as the taxi driver was held up in traffic, so we stood on the top floor of the car park, in defiance of the signs saying no spotting, watching aircraft come and go.

The driver arrived, as we loaded the car he had a gasper, then it was all in the cab for the last leg of the journey home.

Traffic was heavy, but we only got held up in one place, and me sitting in the back seat alternated between checking the football scores and snoozing.

Either way the journey home flew, and soon we were in Kent. and getting nearer home with every mile.

At least it was a sunny day, if not warm. !3 degrees in Dover, 31 in Valencia!

We get home, there was a mountain of mail to sort through, four loads of washing to do, and someone had to go to Tesco.

I went..

It was mad, but with a scanner I was able to get round fairly quickly, and got home by half five.

We put the shopping away, and I prepare a meal similar to what we had in Spain: salad, ham, olives and wine. Lots of bread.

But we were pooped, really.

And on the tellybox, Norwich crashed to another defeat to add to the sense of gloom. One win in ten games now.

Bed at nine, chilly to be back home. But good to be in our own bed.

Friday 28th April 2023

Quite the day to describe for you.

It was a our last full day in Spain, and so, because due to a cock up in communications, we had an early flight booked on Saturday morning, and there was no way that we would be able to get from northern Spain to Valencia without getting up at around three and then driving for nearly five hours, with any chance of catching our flight.

So, we bit the bullet abd booked a hotel near the airport in which to spend Friday night, but this would mean leaving the tour on Friday.

Even worse, the guides had a great lead on the dream UK species, Camberwell Beauty. I was very tempted to not travel until I had joined them on that visit, but decided that there was other stuff we could do. In the end, they found four Beauties, and they looked magnificent, but we did something good too.

Although, there was drama and adventure.

So, up at seven to look at the moth traps, and then a large and slow breakfast, before we loaded the car and said goodbye to the others and guides on the tour. One last group photo, and we climbed in and drove off.

First call was the valley near to the hotel we visited on Wednesday after the deay on the motorway. I wanted Jools to experience the narrow road winding through the gorge. And now I have uploaded the video to Flickr so can you!

After that we drve the hour or so to the national park in the very north of Spain to see the Alpine meadow Jools had seen the day before.

This was the adventure.

At first, a drive along the main road east, then turning off on ever-narrowing roads, until we turned up a valley and went along cobbled streets barely wide enough to get the car through. More than once it was like driving up a footpath.

The road then began to climb and twist, up and up it went, the road becoming a track in places. But with the sun out, it was a fine day for a drive in the mountains. Hairpin bend after hairpin bend, I was casual driving, too casual, because coming out of one corner, I went over a rock with the rear wheel.

There was a bang, and then the sound of escaping air.

A puncture.

Not much we could do other than get the baggage out, get the spare wheel out and try to change the wheel.

In a dirt track miles from the nearest town and out of phone range. In a country we could not speak the language.

Eeek.

The wheel change went well, other than it was a space-saver, which meant that we would be limited to 80KM/H on the drive that would then take up to 8 hours to Valencia.

The wheel was on, we reloaded the car, and went on, up and up to the dead end track to the entrance to the national park.

From here it was a 600m walk to the meadows, but that would take 15 minutes as the track was at an angle in excess of 45 degrees.

I went on, as Jools had found orchids there, so with plenty of stops, I climbed up and up until the ribbed concrete ramp ended, and the land flattened out, and there were thousands of Cowslips, two species of Gentians and both colour forms of a fine orchid, Dactylorhiza sambucina.

But time was pressing, and we really had to get the tyre fixed.

It was a 45 minute drive back to the main road, through two tiny picturesque villages and countless hairpin bends, ups and downs. Jools drove, and she got us down safe.

Spain like a siesta, and I like the idea of them, but at half one in the afternoon when you want a tyre fixed, it meant nowhere was going to be open until half three. The second place we rolled up to, seem to suggest they would fix it at half three when they reopened, so we agreed.

Opposite was a truck stop, so we went in t kill the 90 minute wait.

For €16 we got huge plate of Ceasar Salad, followed by steak and potatoes and rounded off by cheese and quince jelly, washed down with a 1.5' of water and fresh bread too. All for 16 Euros.

It was damn fine eating.

Back to the tyre shop, and they looked at the tyre, it was fucked. Needed a new one, and by law both on the axle had to be changed. But they had two they could fix, so off they went, in their own time.

90 more minutes ticked by, but at half four, it was done, sesors reset and after paying we could leave.

The sat nav told us we had 4 hours still to go.

Best get going then.

The road took us over the spectacular mountain pass, and down onto the plains on the other side. It was hot and hazy, 31 degrees, but the miles slipped by as we headed east and south, with the weather warming up, even as the sun set in the west.

Not much else to tell, we did well, swapping driving duties as the afternoon slipped into evening, with the sun setting as we dropped from the plains towards the coast.

We got lost twice in the complex road network around Valencia airport, but as darkness fell, we reached the hotel, though we could not find our way into the compound. In then, Jools went in and was told, drive to the gate and it will open.

And it did.

We checked in, went to our room which was as hot as an oven. Jools went to fetch supper which laid heavy, but what the hell. It was nearly 11 and we had made it to within 6 km of the airport, we just had to find it in the morning.

Should be easy, but one time I couldn't find LAX from rout 101.

So, who knows.....

Thursday 27th April 2023

Due to the accident and delays, we did not do the stop at the midpoint on Wednesday, instead we spent seven hours driving to the site back on the plains, searching for several hours on scrubbed hillsides, and none of the target species found.

That being said, it was still quite the day.

All night we were serenaded by a nightingale outside our room window. The owner of the hotel tried to apologise!

As a treat, he had put up four moth traps, hoping to capture Europe's largest species, the Moon.

Sadly, one wasn't caught, but many others were, which was a good start to the day.

Breakfast was a feast, sausages, rolls, bread, fruit, coffee, so we were set for the day.

But there is no getting over that it was going to be a long day. Three and a half hours to get to the site, then many hours searching on a steep scrubby hillside.

The road was spectacular, taking us through a mountain pass and several tunnels, then across the hot and dusty plain.

While northern Europe chills in below average temperatures, Spain and Portugal have had a hot and dry winter, and now summer has come early.

By the time we reached the site, passing through "Bee-eater Alley", where a dozen birds were seen, we arrived at the site to find it 29 degrees, and the expected wildflower filled hillside, arid and dry, the flowers long since having given up and dried out.

No flowers means no butterflies, but we had to look, but none found.

A way further on was an abandoned field, over a kilometre long, and home to another colony of Dusty Orange Tips. We saw a couple, but Dave caught one so we could catch it when released.

We all snapped it, and then it flew off. So we turned back for the hotel, some three hours away.

The buses are large, but even still, jammed in them for half the day was hard on our knees, and it became painful as we climbed the mountain pass again, before heading through the lusher countryside that side of the mountains.

We got back at half seven, time for the debrief and then dinner. Baked cod, vegetables and fried noodles.

Delicious.

And that was that, we were all shattered, but most of all, Jon and Dave who drove all day and then chased butterflies.

Heroes, both.

Wednesday 26th April 2023

Wednesday is transit day, and we had to drive from central to Northern Spain. It was about a three hour drive.

And all was going well until having just passed Zaragoza, right in front of us, a truck left the road and burst into flames. Thus closing the motorway.

The truck and trailer burned well for nearly an hour, the fire brigade tried to put it it, but in due course we were allowed to turn round and drive back to the previous exit.

Had we have been twenty seconds earlier, we might have been caught in it.

Just horrible.

And it was all going so well. We had packed the night before, so just had to get dressed, have breakfast and load the car. Today we counted the steps from our room to the breakfast bar four stories below, and it was 63 steps. Easy going down, but hard on the way back up!

The car was loaded, and we waited for the buses to be oaded and everyone get on, then set off in convoy back to the motoway, along the gorge then across the plains.

Really, not much to report about the journey, in this area of Spain the roads are excellent, well signposted and lightly used, so we made good time. The weather was fabulous, and it seemed all so perfect.

Then, over half way into the journey, there was a fireball ahead, and then thich black smoke. The traffic all came to a halt, and once out of the car we could see the road on fire, and the tryck beyond well alight. Locals had called the emergency services, so we just had to wait for them to come. Took about 15 minutes before the first fire engine arrived, then a second, before the police and ambulances.

Only the fire engines came past, as they tried to fight the fire. What we didn't know was that behind us, the police had opened the cetral reservation and they were turning traffic round. It came to our turn, and we were lead across to the other side of the carriageway, once we had done a three point turn, and followed all the other traffic taking a country lane to the next junction.

A column of now pale smoke hung in the air.

I guess we had lost an hour, so plans were changed. We stopped at a service station for lunch, but was really just a petrol station in an industrial area. We had a packed lunch, and then climbed back in the car and drove off, still in convoy.

The road took us down a long ravine, twisting and turning, hugging the rock face for many miles until it crossed the river by a narrow metal bridge that was single track and relied on people to give way to allow traffic coming the other way to cross.

Just then to climb the valley the other side, then drive 5 more miles through rich countryside to the village of Bordun, and our hotel for the next three nights.

After unloading the bags and cases the tour went back out, Jools stayed behind, and we went a short distance along another narrow gorge to a meadow site where we hoped to see several new species, including the Spanish Festoon.

And after half an hour of serching, a shout went up, and a pristine specemin sat on a conifer sapling in the warm afternoon sunshine.

I was doubly blessed, as late in the afternoon, a Large Tortoiseshell landed on my hand for a moment: a real close encounter.

Near to six, we all got back on the buses for the short drive back to the hotel, back along the gorge, in which I took a video.

It then dawned on me that I had just the one day left with the tour, as Jools and I would head back towards Valencia as our flight was Saturday morning.

Back at the hotel, I catch up with Jools who had sat in the garden while we were away, reading.

Dinner was served at eight, but before then, with Jools and I sitting on the patio, I spotted two exotic looking birds on a fence:

HOOPOES!

I looked towards the library where faces of the rest of the tour were looking out too at the two birds. The birds must have heard me, and flew off, we did not see them again, sadly.

Dinner was splendid local food, served in two dining rooms, with wine, and afterwards we retired to the library for coffee and a relaxing chat, while darkness fell outside.

Tuesday 25th April 2023

Last full day in Albarracín.

I am writing this in the hotel waiting for Jools to return from her trip to some hot springs. I have been huting butterflies once again, and although no new species for me today, lots seen and another 300 shots taken.

We do the usual stuff before going down the 500 steps to breakfast, where there is the usual rolls, yogurt, cakes and cold meats and cheese. And coffee.

Back up to the room for last minute preparations, Jools leaves at nine as the springs were about a two hour drive away, and we meet up at the buses at half nine, all ready for the half hour trip to the first stop.

Cañón de los Arcos is a beauty spot. And a fine canyon winding back into the mountains, all carved by a small stream. Before the cayon closes in, there are a few meadow, and on those should be the butterflies.

I say should be, because it would seem Spanish butterflies like their kip, and didn't really start appearing until half eleven, when we had just half an hour before we moved on.

But there was the canyon to explore, and look at the flowers and other plants. Above us over 30 Griffin Vlutures circled, it now warm enough for them ride thermals, and just above the cliffs, several Chouffs squawked and flapped the morning away.

A few other visitors were there too, but for the most part, it was just our party stretched out along the path through and into the canyon.

I suppose we got a bit used to spectacular settings and landscapes, but the sheer rock faces and views opening up as I pressed in into the canyon were a wonder for the eyes, and also be out of earshot of other people.

The next two stops were revisits as they had been so fruitful, the first a 20 minute drive to the dried up river valley, where we hoped to see more Large Tortoiseshells.

I had the joy of sitting in the front passenger seat whilst Dave drove, so had views of the rolling countryside and picturesque villages we went through, it also kept Gillian quiet ias she was in the seats behind, though she did try to complain about most things.

We parked in the valley, had lunch of salads! roughage!

Then we went off, with me offering to show Gillian where I saw the Large Torties, as she had never seen them before. We ambled up the track and sat waiting for 45 minutes, but none came down from the treetops.

However, on the walk back, a single one was perched at the top of a rock face, and on occasion, sunlight would glint off its wings. Other had seen it land, so we know it was on, so in the world of flutterbies it counts as a species tick.

Next up was a quiet lay by we had been to on Monday, hoping to see a repeat of the Sooty Orange Tip action. As we climbed out of the bus, on of the Japanese guests realised she had lost her bag at the previous site, and it contained her passport! So Dave took her back so they could rescue it, which they did as the valley is so unvisited.

We milled around, but no repeat of the excitement, but more shots taken anyway.

And that was it for another day. Another 12,000 steps done, and more hot and bothered than on previous days. Just glad to get back on the bus one last time for the 15 mile drive back to the hotel.

So, at eight, we walk down to the restaurant to wait for the rest of the group, where we have our last dinner in the town, and as a treat the owners supply us with home made flavoured liqueurs that flowed well into the night.

Monday 24th April 2023

The tour continues.

Each day now has the same structure: Get up at about seven, breakfast at half eight, meet at the vans at half nine for the drive to the first site, stay there two hours, drive to next site, have lunch before another two hours searching, and on the drive back to the hotel, one last stop of an hour or so, go to the square for a beer, debrief at seven fifteen before going for dinner at eight.

Rinse and repeat.

Monday was the same as above. Each day the sites and butterflies are different, of course, and we never know if we will see what we hope to see at each site.

Breakfast is simple: a roll or two, yogurt, coffee, then back to the room to prepare to leave.

Unlike the previous tour, we try to rotate which bus we sit in each day, so not to create cliques, I sit in Dave's bus, though Gillian in the front seat talks all say, all day about nothing really, just to fill the silence, and is certain she is right about everything.

Again through the mountains, poor villages, and bright green lush fields before we turn down a track through a forest to come to a wide grass area, which had a small bog at the bottom, too muddy for much exploring, and anyway these early season butterflies don't frequent the bog. Our target was the de Prunner's ringlet.

We wander off, and despite it being warmer than the day previous, butterflies were slow to wake up, so it was an hour really before we saw any. Two tattered Iberian Scare Swallowtails delighted us all, as they fed on fresh Blackthorn blossom, and the usual suspects of Orange Tips, Provence Orange Tips, Queen of Spains all flew through.

Up on the wooded slope, news came that the Ringlets had been found, so we go off to explore, with only a couple of folks getting shots. We did find the first orchid of the trip, a tiny Early Purple growing in the shelter of a hollow.

Dave did manage to catch one of the Ringlets, and tried to keep to cool so when released, it would stay for a few moments before flying off. I have no idea how he did it, I couldn't get close enough to one with my big macro lens, he got so close he could trap it in a pot!

Butterfly ninja skills.

Back down to the vans for a short drive to the lunch site, near a waterfall.

It was already very warm, so I sat on the tailgate while the others went off, however I would be rewarded with fine views of a newly emerged European Swallowtail, an Iberian Sooty Copper and a Green Underside Blue.

Which was all nice.

On the road again to the final site, a narrow country lane leading to a ravine, where in an abandoned field, we had hoped to see the rarest of the lot, a Sooty Orange Tip.

In fact the site was rich in butterflies, with many Blues, and the other Two Orange Tips, a Provencal Fritillary.

A shout went out, and news that a Sooty Orange Tip had been seen, and indeed it had. The flighty butterfly was speeding round the field with half the group in pursuit, it likes only Hoary Mustard to feed on, and it did pause twice, but I wasn't fast enough to get shots. It flew off and was last seen disappearing into the afternoon haze.

It was a short drive back to the hotel, getting back at six, only to find Jools wasn't back.

I was worried, but not needed to have been, as she came in twenty minutes later having had a full day of exploring herself.

There wasn't time to go to the bar, so we sat and talked before I went to the daily debrief, then met up again for dinner.

THe wine flowed, as did the laughs. Again.

Sunday 23rd April 2023

St George's Day.

And the first full day of the tour.

There were a number of target species, so, sites were selected so we could see these. First one of these was the Spring Ringlet, a very rare butterfly of higher meadows.

Breakfast is at half eight, and wheels an hour later, this is because it takes a while for the day to warm up and the butterflies start to bask and fly. Meaning it is a lazy start compared with last year's orchid trip.

Breakfast is in the breakfast bar, to go to, we have to go down the stairs to the ground floor, out onto the street, in the next door, down four flights of stairs, across the patio and down two more flights of stairs.

There is fresh coffee, and break, fruit and the rest of what you would expect. Coffee is seen by staff as the most important, and who am I to argue?

We all piled into the two buses at half nine, Dave and Jon drove us on a winding route along the river valley, then up into the wooded hills, stopping in a nature reserve.

I stare out of the window and take shots of desserted farms and villages, there has been a serious exedus to the cities from here, and it shows.

"We have two hours here, be back at the bus at midday".

And we went off with cameras to hunt for the Spring Ringlets and whatever else we could find.

The day was warming up quickly, and soo the first Ringlet was seen, so we all charge over to get at least one shot, then when that flew away, we hunted more.

I found a fine female Long Tailed Blue, several Queen of Spain Fritillaries, lots of Clouded Yellows, Orange Tips, Small Heaths. We were busy.

By 12, not many Ringlets were seen, but there is another site we will visit in the forthcoming days. So we drove onto the second site, a dry river bed that had formed a gorge, and was now fed by a small stream creating small meadows.

We had lunch first, then had four hours to go and explore. Almost straight away we saw several Green Hairstreaks, and another target species, Iberial Firey Copper, as well as more Queen of Spains and a Provencal Fritillary. Further afied, Wall Brown, regular Small Coppers, Small Blue, Large Tortoiseshells, Painted Ladies, plue the beautiful Provene Orange Tip, whose wings are a yolky yellow rather than white, but the male has the same orange wing tips.

I followed the two guides up a track to try to get shots of Large Tortoiseshells, but after a while my back told me to stop. I stopped where Jon had seen a Large Tortoiseshell earier, so I waited. And sure enough in about five minutes, one came gliding down and landed on a tree, where I could get a distant shot.

It then swooped down and landed on a rock near my feet, allowing me to get some head on shots, before flying off when I tried to change a setting on the camera.

But I had shots.

And then on the way down to the main track, a single Iberian Scarce Swallowtail was drinking from a puddle, and kept circling round me to drink more. I got some fine shots.

And as an encore, I got shots of a Chequered Blue in a boggy area, my muddy socks worth it to see such a fine butterfly.

At half four we drive back, a half hour run up and over a mountain, then back down into the river valley once again. And then back to Albarracín.

Where, after a ten minute breather, we walked to the bar on the square for a couple of beers and a decompress chat over the beers and some pickles on a stick while watching the beautiful people out for a stroll in the evening sunshine.

Dinner was back at the pizza place, where the wine flowed once again, so then did the laughter.

Saturday 22nd April 2023

All good things come to an end, and so our time in Valencia draws to an end too.

However, it also marks the start of the second part of the adventure, when we join the butterfly tour and drive up to the mountains.

We have to shower, dress, pack and go down for breakfast, where the place is rammed once again, though when it gets really crowded, we had eaten and were on our way out.

One final check of the room, and we go down to reception to check out and wait for the taxi to take us to the airport where we were to pick up a hire car.

The taxi, when it arrived, was a heap, a family car whose driver seemed unused to passengers with luggage, as there was a pram, child's seat in the back. It all about just fitted, but we both had bags on our laps as he bounced back out of the city, across complex junctions out to the motorway and then to the airport.

I sat with the luggage whilst Jools went to the car hire office, coming back half an hour later so we could put our bags inside, then went back in the terminal to find our two guides, Jon and Dave.

They were at the cafe, they bought us a coffee, and we sat and chatted as we waited for the two flights carrying the other tour members arrived from Stanstead and Gatwick.

And once they did arrive, they then had lunch bought, ate, and so by half one we were ready.

We all went to the parking garage, the rest in two minibuses, and Jools and I in the car, we drive in convoy, us at the rear. The hardest part was getting out of the garage, confusing signs had us going round in circles. But we got out, and after taking a wrong turn, we made it to the motorway, heading west to the mountains.

The road climbed, dropped, then climbed some more. It was all very good, until Dave got pulled over by the police over a suspected seat belt violation. In broken Spansih he explained, Jools and I watched on, laughing.

We were allowed to go.

We turned off the main road, heading up a twisty road, up through a twisting river valley until we stopped at an over bridge, where below there was a dried up river bed, which could yield some first day butterflies. We all got out and began to look.

And despite it spitting with rain when we started, the clouds did clear and the sunshine, and butterflies came out. A quick hour long search brought a new species, of which I think we all got shots.

Back in the car/buses, and the 20 minute drive to our base, Albarracín.

Albarracín has been voted several times, the most beautiful village in Spain, and it is. Like a Tuscan hilltop town, all narrow streets and paths, with steps going up and down, shops and houses towering over the narrow streets, so much so they almost met.

After checking in, we went for a walk, mixing with tourists and locals, walking up to the cathedrals: sadly closed, then back down to the main square where we met our two guides and joined them in a beer or two.

Dusk was falling when we walked back to the hotel, and the small restaurant below where the wine flowed, as did the laughs. There was a limited choice from the menu, for our fixed price, but I had a bowl of lentils and ham followed by lamburger, which both went down very well indeed.

Darkness had fallen, the village a magical place to explore, but we were tired, so climbed back to the hotel, then up the stairs to our room

Friday 21st April 2023

So, in the evening, we went to look for somewhere to have dinner.

As is the way in southern European countries, many did not open until eight or nine, so this limited our choice somewhat. But an Italian place had caught my eye, so we went there.

They had a nice table near to the kitchen, so the fine smells came wafting out.

For a starter we had Caprese, but unlike any we have dad before: as it had nearly half a pound of mozzerella, lots of tomatoes, basil, and came with a fine selection of foccacia, including a black one, which was just as delicious.

We had the house speciality for main: thin pasta in a creamy sauce, which was mixed together, at the table, in two hollowed out Parmiasan cheeses, the pasta twirled into four neat piles, then shavings of fresh black truffle were placed on top.

It really was too good for us, but was magnificent.

Being so filling, we bailed on going to the Irish bar, and instead waddled back to the hotel.

Friday 21st April 2023

I am writing this when the day is not yet done. In fact, local time is 15:45, but we have done lots.

This is our last full day in the city, and my main aim today was go visit the Cathedral. I would have gone yesterday, but I was so hot and bothered and there was too many people.

So, put it off to today.

We were awake before seven, but lay in bed listening to the amazing silence that we enjoy here, despite being in a city. Each city block in this area looks onto a flattened area, not sure that the building is that our room looks onto, but it does mean we are isolated from the sound of the main roads nearby.

Which is nice.

We get up, shower and get dressed before going down for breakfast, which we time perfectly just before the stampede of the other guests. We have a prized table beside the window, overlooking the main road which had light traffic, for now.

Danes complain that the UK gets the best bacon and ruins it. In which case they should see what the Spanish do with bacon. Anyway, I had a small bacon roll, which did OK, but better was the three coffees which put a spring into my step.

I hoped.

Churches seems to open at half ten after the half nine Mass, meaning we had 90 minutes to walk the mile into the city, which we now know like we're locals.

My feet ache, 19,000 steps on Thursday meant that they had fewer miles in the tank this day. So, we ambled into the city centre, then took up a place looking at the porch to see when a queue might form. We had 45 minutes to wait.

We sat in the shade, and once I saw more people milling around outside the cathedral, we went over and took front place in the queue, with just 15 minutes until it opened.

I was indeed the first inside, once we paid the €9 entry fee, and so I was able to get shots with few people in them.

The Cathedral is home to the Holy Grain/Chalice. Or the one with the longest provenance, dating back to circa 2nd century AD. It's not well signposted, and seems to be in the old Chapterhouse, and is set in the middle of a dozen fine carvings. I found it by going into the museum, which exits into the Chapel.

The rest of the Cathedral is splendid, though not with the Baroque details of St Nicholas, but I go round to most of the fabulous fixtures, icons, statues and paintings, though we did not take up the offer to climb the 208 steps up the tower.

Not with these legs.

We went back outside, sat some more, and pondered what to do with the rest of the day.

Jools wanted to go swimming. So, we walk back to the hotel with the aim of picking up her costume and heading out after a half hour lay down. All was going well, but though of ice cream and/or breakfast came to mind.

A café door was open, so we went in for a drink of orange juice. But that turned into a plate of Iberian ham and fresh bread. The ham, was sensational, served with a tomato pesto, and went down very well indeed. So satisfied I was tempted to have a coffee too.

Then back to the hotel for a shave, as I could not find the razor I got out, so we had to search out a chemist to buy one. So, in ten minutes, I was shorn and lovely, then smothered in after shave.

Outside, we flagged down a taxi, and Jools explained we wanted to go to the beach. And the driver lurched off, at warp factor eight.

A twenty minute drive took us the other side of the port and marina, there was a wide beach, with a promenade and bars, restaurants.

I sat on the sea wall, while Jools went to the shore to have her swim. I was entertained by a guy with a guitar and his girlfriend on sax, murdering holiday favourites, turning every genre into muzak.

Once Jools had come back and changed into t shirt and shorts, we walk down the row of places to eat and were tempted into the second place, which offered three courses for €16. Baked cheese, followed by pork in a pepper sauce and rounded off with a coffee.

Not bad.

Not great either. But it'll do.

We walked to the main road, flagged a cab down to take us back to the hotel.

And here we are.