In Bilbao...

1910hrs: The weather has improved considerably, there is a weak sun, but it's there, and I can see blue skies as I sit here in Starbucks having enjoyed a mint tea and a cinnamon Danish. The latter are very good as they're much thicker than the conventional varieties found in most bakeries. There's reggae playing, but I'd rather be listening to Theme for Sparta FC by The Fall because it's absolutely brilliant. Mind you, I'd better not drink any more tea otherwise I might become 'totally wired' to borrow from Mark E Smith's track of the same name.

This sums up my state of mind I'm afraid...

While there is sunshine and bluish skies, there's a wind blowing. The conifers are swaying a little bit, but it's nice to see the mountains silhouetted against the grey-blue skies.

I better not get too carried away with the old blogging or I'll miss my flight, but in all honesty I've run out of things to say and just want to be at home, although there's still a long way to go, even when I land in Stansted: two train journeys and a run on the London Underground, plus the possibility of another taxi. How awful it all is, seriously. I really don't need it if I'm honest. What had been a chilled time, give or take the work, which was full on, but worth it, the trip has been a good one, but it was ruined at the very last minute.

I'll sign off now as even iPhoto doesn't work so you'll have to make do with the shot on the right, a kind of representation of the state of my mind and the capacity of my brain.

In Avilés, Day Two and Day Three...

Well, it's technically day three as I flew in on Sunday evening, but who's counting? I flew easyJet and they have weird flight times: like they don't fly back until some ungodly hour tomorrow night and arrive in Stansted gone 11pm [or do they?*]. Something mad like that. Anyway, here I am, sitting in front of the flat screen television at the desk underneath it, the bed behind me, coffee machine to the left and nothing much to the right of me. Yes, I'm in Room 209 of the NH Palacio Hotel, Avilés.

Room 209, NH Palacio Hotel, Avilés

Yesterday was a long day, but I got a good night's sleep and went down for breakfast around 0800hrs, probably just a bit before. I travelled down in the elevator, two floors, and then bowled into the room where all the breakfast items were laid out before me: pastries, fresh fruit, yoghurt, bread, cereal, cheese, fruit juices, tea, coffee, the usual stuff, but today the coffee machines (both of them) had ceased to work so I couldn't enjoy this weird fruity tea, the one I had yesterday morning – not the same teabag, you understand, but the same variety. Anyway, it's still in my pocket now, as I thought I'd have it later in the room. The teabag in my pocket is wrapped and dry, not wet, just in case you thought I'd do such a thing.

So I'm in my room, I've got about three minutes before I'm due to head downstairs for a morning of work and then, after lunch, I'm free to do my own thing. I'll take a wander around and report back later.

Later on...
After lunch in Gijon (pronounced 'hee-hon') I decided to check out Avilés and realised pretty quickly that it's a small place and easily covered by a 90-minute walk. Now, I ought to point out that I'm referring only to the pedestrianised roads that spider out from the NH Palacio hotel and I say this because once I reached the end of one of these roads, the rest was queuing traffic and the occasional lorry, which wasn't quite as appealing as the quaint streets, free from vehicular congestion. I rarely retraced my steps, but managed to walk around the perimeter of the area until I found a road free of cars that would return me to the magic of this small city. Or is it a town? I'll have to ask somebody. I think it's a city, one of three in the area, the others being Oviedo, further inland, and Gijon**

The view from room 209, NH Palacio, Avilés

As I mentioned yesterday, this region of Spain (Asturias) is known as 'green Spain', the climate is very similar to the UK, more's the pity, although it's slightly warmer at present. The sea temperature in the summer appears to be similar to 'Great' Britain too, and while I've been here in Avilés there have been light showers, cloud and occasional sunshine, like yesterday (Tuesday 13th March) from around 1630hrs when I stopped for a small black tea sitting outside a café facing the main square. I sat there reading Shirley Jackson's We Have Always Lived in the Castle and then headed back to the hotel to carry on watching Mark E Smith interviews, documentaries about the band and interviews with a former band member who has recently published a book about their time in The Fall.*** I tend to agree with the media about MES: he ploughed his own furrow, lived his life to his rules and was, quite simply a genius. He managed to run The Fall for over 40 years, produce about as many studio albums, one per year, and bring out many live albums and get involved in the world of ballet too. There's much to say about the man, but for now, considering he died, aged 60, at the end of January, I'll say Rest in Peace.

And while we're talking about great men who have passed away, let's not forget Ken Dodd, Professor Stephen Hawking and Jim Bowen, host of the 80's darts gameshow Bullseye. All of these are recent news since I've been here in (ahem) 'sunny' Spain.

I moseyed on back to the hotel, stopping at gift shops en route and not buying anything purely because there wouldn't be room to take whatever I purchased on the plane. I fly back late tonight (or do I?) and I can't help but wonder why easyJet runs such a sparse schedule. Had I been able I would have flown back immediately after the meeting on Monday, but there were no flights; there was nothing yesterday either and today (Wednesday 14th March) my flight takes off for Stansted around 2230hrs (or maybe it's 1030 in the morning). This in turn means another night in a hotel in Stansted, which I could really do without; I just want to be home.

A typical Avilés street

On Tuesday night, instead of trawling the streets indecisively for somewhere to eat an evening meal, I decided to try the hotel restaurant, which had been closed on Sunday evening. It looked a bit upmarket and, dare I say, a bit poncy. There were two poncy-looking waiters and the place was virtually empty bar one table full of poncy people (English and Spanish) and a couple of solitary diners like myself trying to be inconspicuous.

I can't say I was happy with the meal. I chose what was billed as a fresh vegetable roll with spinach soup, which, when it arrived, took me by surprise as I was expecting the rolls to resemble spring rolls, like the ones you get in Chinese restaurants, but no, it was basically two 'rolls' – which looked more like alien fingers covered in a thin membrane-like material that revealed the contents of striped carrot and asparagus. I didn't like it. The main course was 'Ox beef with roast potatoes, leading me to believe I'd be getting a hearty roast dinner (why else did I choose the vegetable roll to start?). But the reality was troubling: an architecturally challenging structure of ice hockey puck proportions with what looked like Parma ham entwined on top like a bad haircut. The meat was tough and chewy and fatty – just like Parma ham – and the best part of the dish was the potato and the accompanying bread roll. Dessert was the best of the lot, simplicity always brings out the best of anything. 'Seasonal fruits' was the dish and it consisted of pineapple, banana and sliced apple. I had a bottle of mineral water on the go, much to the dismay of the waiters who knew only too well that the restaurant would only make its money on alcohol sales, but for me the bill was a paltry 22 Euros, which did the job, and I left there feeling a little disappointed, but ready to hit the sack.

The NH Palacio Hotel from the main square

The best part of the meal wasn't the meal, it was the chilled environment, which enabled me to read my book in peace and under good light. When I reached my room I continued to follow the life of Mark E Smith on YouTube and then went to bed.

Wednesday 14th March
It's now 0836 hrs and time I made my way down to breakfast. Hopefully today the coffee machines will be working, not for the coffee but for the hot water (I'll be having some kind of purifying 'Bio' tea, only because it tastes nice.

I'll write more later probably but I've got to check out later on, hopefully noon, and then it's a case of literally hanging around until about 2000hrs for Luis, the taxi driver, to take me to my hotel. In fact, I'd better check things out on that score.

But oh how wrong I was! I won't bore you with the details, but the end result of everything not being as it seemed is that I had to act fast, check out and haul my sorry arse over to Bilbao. It took two coach journeys: one to Oviedo, the other to Bilbao (roughly three and a half hours) and now here I am, sitting in Starbucks having just enjoyed a cinnamon Danish and a cup of mint tea. "Dinner" a few minutes earlier, was a ham roll and a black tea without milk. Earlier there had been stormy conditions, but right now as I look out of the window it appears to have cleared up and I can see a few bluish skies through the cotton wool clouds. I took a taxi from Bilbao bus station in the pouring rain and once through security I managed to relax a little bit. I feel fine now, but the chilled day I thought I was going to have didn't materialise.

I don't know what's wrong with me sometimes, but, like all of us, I guess, I too am not infallible, I can (and do) get things wrong, but not drastically so. I'll be back in the UK around 2230hrs and then I think I'll try and get a train home rather than stay in another hotel for the night, even if that was my original, but doomed, plan.

* They don't basically, my error.
** Gijon, pronounced 'hee-hon'.
*** The Big Midweek by Steve Hanley.