The tortoise and the hare

We found lodgings at a guesthouse called, translated, The Tortoise and the Hare, at which they have multiple actual tortoises and several thousand clues to that effect. I'll leave you to draw your own conclusions about the relevance of this particular fable to us, noting that Branna is trying very hard to not break the sound barrier and I'm quite proud of the effort displayed so far.

We were probably overeager to assure THAT'S FINE when she told us all the single beds were gone and she only had an 85 euro private room left. I graciously ignored the sign that said 80 - don't look a gift tortoise in the mouth. Choking on incense and smiling beatifically as her husband somehow saw through the smog to light another, we checked in and got talked through self serve breakfast tomorrow (7e, yes) and communal dinner tonight (18e, no).

The room had eight powerpoints and a rug that tried to kill us multiple times. We availed outselves of the perky private bathroom, went and had a hilariously low brow pizza and some beer in a plastic cup, and then I slowly rotisseried myself on the odd mattress throughout the night - despite wearing a mask throughout transit, I'm predictably sick.

Poor old Branna had to listen to me pinball phlegm around my sinuses, racking up many triple point bonanzas. It's probably bird flu, a sparrow ate some of my pain au choc on Biarritz but I didn't surrender the remainder.

- LexRead more