I had a short walk around the North East (?) side of the centre. I like being away from the tourist heart a bit. Strange, given I am staying slap bang in the centre at Plaza Mayor! Ended up back in centre – I used Cathedral as a marker. There is a small moorish garden next to the Cathedral. It – and the area around it – were the location of the early period in Madrid’s history. The location of the Palacio Real – Catedral and Plaza Mayor were an encampment to help protect against troop movements on Andalusia.

Restaurant Botin – just off the Plaza Mayor – is very old indeed and Goya allegedly worked there as a waiter. It claims to be the oldest surviving restaurant in continuous service. It is easily found by the continuous groups of walking tours outside :-)

I managed the first proper stroll this evening around Madrid. I saw a Sardine in a coffin being paraded through the streets before being interred at a Royal Garden Palace. A touch unusual.

Snaps:

The final image is the old North Station – such a shame to see such a magnificent building in that condition.

They have started celebrating early. Those sardines need buried. Mas tarde…

Settling in now. I was very tired on my first full day here. Loads of work to get through.

Woke quite early. The flat is very small and you need to stand on some wee steps to see out of a skylight. I took this a while after the light started to enter the sky. It shows blue skies. Hopefully it will be a nice day. The first 36 hours were grey and chilly.

Todo lo mejor!

Badger enjoys the colder walks.

Longniddry in mid February.

I have a foreboding of an America in my children’s or grandchildren’s time — when the United States is a service and information economy; when nearly all the manufacturing industries have slipped away to other countries; when awesome technological powers are in the hands of a very few, and no one representing the public interest can even grasp the issues; when the people have lost the ability to set their own agendas or knowledgeably question those in authority; when, clutching our crystals and nervously consulting our horoscopes, our critical faculties in decline, unable to distinguish between what feels good and what’s true, we slide, almost without noticing, back into superstition and darkness…