Viva España!

Well, we made it to Madrid. Eventually. Delay of an hour on the flight (plane getting a wheel changed) and then circling in congested skies. The taxi driver to the hotel was lovely, nattering away in Spanish. If I concentrated really hard I could get the gist, it being close enough to French to be decipherable with the aid of hand gestures.

Oh, and the cat is fine, spending a large portion of the night, it would appear, on one of our housesitters. Not the one who actually wants to be sat on, Iain being more of a look-but-don't-touch kinda guy with animals, Mary being much more hands on. But then cats are contrary beasts...