Ghost Town

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Things got better in the railway station hotel. We secured some cold beers from the little supermarket and sat in the kiddies playground drinking them.  I am aware how this must sound but there is no way of making it any better than than it was.  A dad turned up with a small boy but for some reason they didn't stay long.

Then we found that the hotel actually DID have a bar so we snuck in another beer to help fill the yawning chasm between our arrival and dinner.  By the time we were eventually served we would have eaten just about anything....which was lucky because that is what they served us.

The legs turned out on parade this morning but looked all sulky and belligerent so we had some fairly stern words and they have grudgingly delivered just enough thrust to get me to Murcia.....77 miles down the road.  The interior of Spain is pretty quiet at the best of times but today is Sunday and everywhere was deserted.  We sat on a park bench in another kiddies playground for our lunch (yes...really!) as 'being closed' was being implemented in a way we can scarcely comprehend in good old Sunday Trading Britain.  

Although the days start VERY chilly (6.7 degrees c this morning since you ask) by noon it is warm enough for summer skimpies and the beer thirst is nicely developed by the time we reach our hotel.  Our hopes weren't high but, inexplicably, the Carrefour Express round the corner from the hotel was open and had a magnificent chiller cabinet full of Estrella.  It is slightly less full now!

Tonight we might try and survive on Tapas since this seems to be exempt from the 'don't give them any food until midnight' regulations.

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