Get thee to a Nunnery

Close as, I imagine. My hotel is just opposite 'Las Carmelitas' in Granada, Mother Theresa's face beside the door, a Crowned Virgin and Child above, a mosaic of the same just to make the point, and the three stars of the order gracing the heraldic stonework above the door. Grass is growing from roof tiles all around me, and swifts dash between the rooftops trilling wildly at the morning and each other. It's nice to be back in the old city.


Getting here was interesting. BA decided they had overbooked, because the pilot required more fuel to deal with troublesome weather patterns, they told us. No-one believed them; it just felt like a standard cock-up. They offered free taxi and £353 to anyone who would take a later flight from a different airport; as my day was devoted to travel I thought I might as well. Cue a taxi to Heathrow, and a nearly missed connection; Yes there was meant to be an hour between arriving in Madrid and boarding for Granada, but as the first flight was delayed because of queues on the runway, we got to Madrid late, and then had to go through security again. I went through security three times that day. I managed to get to the boarding gate for last call, sprinting with my carry case grumbling along behind me. Alongside were other racing Brits, all headed in the same direction. BA, you are not as you were...

Got to Granada, went to see Mum. I have concerns; her mood is good, her weight is down, but I don't know if that means anything; all the Romero women lose weight in old age. She is game and strong, but when we went on the tram, she had to get off to throw up. She was utterly mortified, saying it had never happened to her before. We got her home and sat there in the shade, relaxing. I just don't think she is used to the sun anymore, but couldn't help a feeling of alarm when I asked her when she had last eaten rice, the main component of her accident. 'Oh, a couple of days ago,' she said. Then I quizzed her on whether she was eating, and she reminded me that we had shared churros and two cups of coffee. But coffee on a previously empty stomach might well be too strong, especially if she hasn't been drinking water, and half a churro isn't a meal. Anyway, I couldn't get anything out of her other than that she was fine, so we talked about other things, but I watched her after that. I don't think she keeps herself hydrated, and her food levels seem low.

Apart from relentless air conditioning, the hotel's fine, and in a part of town I like, close to the Plaza Nueva. Today I must meet family. Mum is meant to be coming to the hotel this morning, and as she has no phone, I have no way of ensuring she remembers. I am tired and still suffering a little depression, which I don't medicate because... well, I am not facing questions and warnings about pills from Mum, it's too much effort. But I may have to on returning to England, because while not a severe bout for me, it does get in the way.

However, the city is still lovely,and the sun promises a day of warmth and deep blue skies. The sierra has touches of snow on its peaks, so no drought this year. I'm in a good place.

Ah, here she is.