The world's smallest helicopter landing pad

So, I joined the 20th Century. Well, it had to happen, didn’t it? After all this farting around with one thing and another, I eventually had to cave and get a SIM card for the cell phone Dirk gave me. This I did yesterday. And when, as always happens, the promises given by the seller – “of course, Sir, of course you can text to overseas and while you will be in France” – turned out to be a pack of lies, well, I had to go and make the best of a bad job and install WhatsApp. Another Meta data swoop. So that is it: the last bastion of the Luddites swept away as if it had never existed. Like all the glorious paintings and works of art in English cathedrals – all swept away because of a woman.

At the worst of times, it is unfair to compare Mrs Ottawacker to Anne Boleyn: and Mrs Ottawacker wasn’t to blame for this at all. It’s just me allowing my stream of consciousness narrative to run away with me again. I just balked at the idea of spending 15€ and not being able to text the two people I keep in touch with. The good news is, when I leave Spain in 7 days, it is hardly likely to work; and when I return to Canada, I can go back to my arrant contempt for modern life.

Other than that, I spent a day more or less working. I made sure I got my walk in – and it still hurts after a while, but it might be after a longer while than before, it’s hard to say without a Fitbit or some similar Meta data grab around my wrist, and thought about going for lunch at a beachside café (but decided against it because times are uncertain and I am cheap at the best of times). Called the Ottawackers to make sure Ottawacker Jr got out of bed for school, spoke with M&S in London and the Drôme respectively, and then went back to the NZ stuff.

I’ve been away for two weeks now – and it feels as if I arrived yesterday. Is this normal? Part of me feels as if this is something I have to get through before I can get where I want to be. It’s true, the luggage, the hair, all that has chopped and changed and stopped there being a real flow and consistency to the trip. Strange.

Anyway, tonight I am heading out for dinner: just me and a book. Haven’t yet decided if I’ll go to the Indian/Mexican fusion place again or try somewhere else. Ah! The delights of Calahonda.