Holiday Ends in Back-To-Work Shocker

Got back late on Friday night. There was a fresh dogshit waiting on the front doorstep. It seemed an unduly portentous end to the holidays.

Despite a previously stated intention to return with material prepared for posting here, I did nothing of the sort. Although my imagination was stirred a number of times by sights and events inside and outside Spain, it was not enough to make me write about it. Couldn’t be arsed, to be honest. I shall post some aperçus from my sojourn over the next few days.

While I normally get through at least four or five books when on holidays, this time I only managed a half of Lo mejor que le puede pasar a un cruasán (English version here) by Pablo Tusset. I am happy to say, however, that I underwent a Rocky II-style fitness rehabilitation (minus raw eggs at dawn and Burgess Meredith-alike trainer) and am now fighting fit to, ah, go back to work in my office job.

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