Nerja

Another long lie-in I'm afraid, but then Lenore had spent half the night coughing, a leftover from the flu she'd supposedly left in Nottingham... Ho hum.

We drive the 10km to Nerja, and spend the rest of the day wandering its streets and sea front. It is very pleasant.

Every second person is British and of at least retirement age, with a generous scattering of German pensioners. It makes us feel very young indeed, which can't be bad. However, the place is, in tourist terms, deserted. The only knees that can be seen belong to elderly Englishmen. A couple of late middle age breasts are exposed to the winter sun, the coastline has collapsed above at least one empty beach, the bars and restaurants are mostly deserted and the locals are correspondingly cheerful. It must be midwinter. No doubt this is very different in August.

We purchase maps and instructions for our planned rambles, a tiny pair of speakers so that we can listen to music pumped out by Ralph's i-Book and a tiny hair drier so that Lenore can make the most of her latest hair style. Oh, and cough medicine!

Today is the first day that Lenore really tries out her terms-worth of evening-class Spanish and she does pretty well, especially at the asking for stuff. Dealing with the responses is more of a challenge, but practice will make perfect!

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