Even that old bastion of English grumpiness, the security guards on the main entrance, were engaging and funny on our visit.
Even that old bastion of English grumpiness, the security guards on the main entrance, were engaging and funny on our visit.
A shaft of light breaks through the canopy and shines like a spotlight on ground-cover plants that will soon be gone, their last hurrah before hibernations embrace.
There is a bit of a chill in the evenings and disappointingly, the heating has already made a brief appearance in our house.
We sat under the trees after hours on our feet, tired, thirsty and just a little irritable, as naïve tourists have a habit of being in warm countries.
Walk the streets more often. That would be my advice to anyone wanting to open their eyes and to see beneath the surface of their normal, everyday world.
Imagine this.
Walking along a gravel covered path, narrow, winding, thick vegetation on all sides.
We talk about composition and narrative. The use of subtleties and vagaries, encouraging depth and intrigue.
It feels like the others are just that little bit further ahead of me these days, or at least, that's how it seems when I decide to take notice.
There are times when you can feel the stress of everyday life just slipping away. Slowly, gradually, leaving your mind and body and allowing you to breathe again and relax.
We have had no rain here for seven or eight weeks. Probably longer. It's almost impossible to remember the last time it rained.
Madrid. A city of sunshine and colour. Of art and culture. Of people and cars and noise and life.
The posts on the blog will tell you that there were good times. But I also tried to share some of the challenging moments and use the writing process to try to help me understand what was happening and why.
I feel as if I have a high definition, ultra-clear awareness of my mortality for the first time.
Real life. A view into someone's world, full of colour and character and intrigue