If ever there was a journey worth making for a day and half, it was the one I just made to Alcala - a small Spanish village situated upon a hill, only to be reached by clambering up steep, cobbled , twisty streets.
The day had started in the Ryan Air queue at Stanstead Airport whereby I entered into a wonderful discussion with a Psycho Analyst from Oxford who, after overhearing my conversation, obvioulsy felt compelled to communicate with my inner psyche. It must have been clear to her that there was much material to analyse!
Finally, once we'd actually been allowed to get onto the plane, I learnt with great clarity the concept of 'no frills'. I was almost surprised that there were even seats upon which I could rest my tired buttocks and doing a quick look round the plane, would have felt unsurprised had there been a sign saying 'standing room only'! The £2.70 cup of tea served as a reminder that I ought to bring my own tea bag next time and just ask for a cup of boiling water to drink.
The gorgeous sensation of hot air greeted us off the plane like a warm hair dryer serving as a signal to all English people to look at each like long lost friends comforted and connected by the knowledge that the sun really does exist and we would travel endlessly to feel its rays on our skin.
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