You Have To Be Kidding Me!

I have never blipped my breakfast before. But this has to be well-deserved exception.

When I woke from a disturbed night, during which the male nurse, who looks like a thinner version of Alexei Sayle, arrived once at 1:00 to add two more drips to my coat stand and again at 2:30 to take one away again, I had a dry mouth.

Actually, after three solid days of various pain-keelahs coursing through my system, it felt like the inside of Gandhi's jandal. I dream of succulent melon, pineapple and grapefruit to assuage my thirst and bring some life back into that particular orifice.

And what do they dump unceremoniously on my table? A dry bread roll, two little pots of olive oil and some salt! I ask you.

The food doesn't get much better through the rest of the day and I've forgotten what decent coffee tastes like. Even good instant.

Call me fussy, but I think it will be some time before the Sanitaria Costa del Sol gets its first Michelin star.