Where's Bertie? He's still at the Aire in Badajoz.
Weather: Foggy start, but once the sun broke through around 10.30 a gloriously sunny day developed.
On Spanish time, and by our usual standards, it was a late night last night. On our body clock's time, it wasn't quite so late, but I didn't sleep particularly well and I belatedly realised as I headed out for a run this morning that I should have set the alarm for an hour later: I set out into the fog and an hour and three quarters (11 miles) later returned with that fog only just lifting. It was a bit nippy on the hands for the first couple of miles, and I had moisture beading on my eyelashes for the duration, but on the whole I was comfortable with bare legs and arms - as was Mick as he ran a shorter route. Others were out in big coats, scarves and ear muffs!
By the time I had breakfasted and showered, the day was marching on towards what we would usually call lunchtime. However, our bodies are still on Portuguese time and Spain eats late, so I figured we had enough time to throw the stinky running kit into a bag (making it up to a full load with everything else that even vaguely needed a wash) and headed over to a laundrette just on the other side of the river.
It was 2pm by the time the laundry was dumped unceremoniously back in Bertie and we were heading once more across the bridge into town. A bit of a recce of menus had been carried out whilst the laundry was doing its thing, so we knew where we were headed. Oh, it is a happy thing to be back in the land of the Menu del Dia:
And that, pretty much, was our day! After all that food I felt no inclination to do anything else active, so back to Bertie we came. As I type this it's 1930 (gosh, the day's gone so quickly!), the sun is setting and, proving that it's not just a weekend thing, the park is full of active people and families.
Weather: Foggy start, but once the sun broke through around 10.30 a gloriously sunny day developed.
On Spanish time, and by our usual standards, it was a late night last night. On our body clock's time, it wasn't quite so late, but I didn't sleep particularly well and I belatedly realised as I headed out for a run this morning that I should have set the alarm for an hour later: I set out into the fog and an hour and three quarters (11 miles) later returned with that fog only just lifting. It was a bit nippy on the hands for the first couple of miles, and I had moisture beading on my eyelashes for the duration, but on the whole I was comfortable with bare legs and arms - as was Mick as he ran a shorter route. Others were out in big coats, scarves and ear muffs!
By the time I had breakfasted and showered, the day was marching on towards what we would usually call lunchtime. However, our bodies are still on Portuguese time and Spain eats late, so I figured we had enough time to throw the stinky running kit into a bag (making it up to a full load with everything else that even vaguely needed a wash) and headed over to a laundrette just on the other side of the river.
It was 2pm by the time the laundry was dumped unceremoniously back in Bertie and we were heading once more across the bridge into town. A bit of a recce of menus had been carried out whilst the laundry was doing its thing, so we knew where we were headed. Oh, it is a happy thing to be back in the land of the Menu del Dia:
And that, pretty much, was our day! After all that food I felt no inclination to do anything else active, so back to Bertie we came. As I type this it's 1930 (gosh, the day's gone so quickly!), the sun is setting and, proving that it's not just a weekend thing, the park is full of active people and families.
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