A Loki le gustan las ensaimadas.

Early this morning I had blood test at the health centre in es Mercadal, as part of the investigation into why I occasionally (and unexpectedly) fall over. As usual they couldn't find a blood vessel in the usual place, and the nurse was about to stick the needle in the back of my hand, until I indicated in no uncertain terms that I wasn't ok with that. I hate the feeling of the thing scraping against bone and leaving a massive sore bruise afterwards. Luckily she tried again in my "usual" spot inner elbow and was able to extract the required half-an-armful (for those of an age to remember Tony Hancock in The Blood Donor). As I had an ECG scheduled at the same place two hours later, we had a walk round the town with Loki, stopping at Cas Sucre for a coffee and ensaimada crema (I'd had to skip breakfast of course). Loki watched us hopefully and of course we each gave him a bit. This is a dog who has had nothing but kibbles to eat for his entire 10 months of life, so the sugar rush was quite a thing. He was jumping and twirling along the street, stopping at every empty roadside table on the way in the hopes of us sitting down there and ordering more deliciousness. On the way to the pharmacy we bumped into our friend Patri, whom we haven't seen since she came to our wedding nearly a year ago. Doesn't time fly these days?