Bloating bread, ham and cheese, and Madrid

I'm currently sitting in a restaurant in London. It's the restaurant next to one of Gordon Ramsey's so I'm channeling his attitude this evening. You know, the attitude he has when he's sitting on his own in a restaurant wondering what on earth he's doing there. Because I'm feeling a bit lost today. This is very unusual for me as I am, more often than not, happy to be somewhere different than sitting in my office and staring at my screens. But this week I've been unable to train properly and I've been eating crap because it has been readily available. Of course I could resist temptation and go for the healthy option, but there were ham and cheese sandwiches/wraps/baguettes everywhere!!

When I say 'everywhere', I mean in Madrid. At the office of the bank headquarters that I'm visiting with work. At the airport that I had to go through to get to my destination. And the bread!! There's bread everywhere!! And at the hotel breakfast there were croissants, and I couldn't just have one! I had to have two! With jam! And there was fruit. And iberico ham. And it all just threw itself into my mouth!

I did go running after work around Las Tablas, the area of Madrid where the hotel was. I was being chased by a storm cloud, and I was secretly hoping it would catch up with me and give me a proper soaking, as if some kind of punishment for the lead weight (of bread) that was bouncing around in my digestive system. And it did! Well, it caught up with me, and then dribbled a little bit of H2O on me and disappeared. Most disappointing. 

After my run I decided to go to the gym so got the key from the Holiday Inn reception and headed into the basement to use the gym facilities. Yeah... That is the crappiest, most soul-destroying gym I have ever been in. My schedule said to do lunges with 2 x 12kg weights. I could put together 15kg at most. I decided to scrap the weights session as a bad job and headed to my room to get ready to meet my colleague for dinner. 

We headed in to central Madrid, which took an eternity because some selfish drivers decided to get into an accident. I had asked the taxi driver, in my best Spanish (mantequilla! mantequilla!), to take us into central Madrid, and he pointed out sights along the way and explained a bit about them (in Spanish). I nodded politely (si, si). We were dumped somewhere and told there were restaurants everywhere (I assumed) so we made our way through the streets. First thing we came across was a lovely market/tapas place encased in glass, that was full of equally lovely stuff.

Like pig legs.

And Spanish people. Or foreign tourists. Or a bit of both.

That's Wines of Pinkleton.

Anyway, we ditched that place when my stomach told me to stop faffing around and feed it more bread with ham and cheese.

Luckily, we found a great restaurant with no ham and cheese in sight and ended up cooking our own beef on a heated rock at the table. Those of you who read my Japan blogs will know that this wasn't the first time I had cooked my food this way. It was, however, the first time I've had grappa with apricot and cinnamon.

Trust me, it looked more appetising in real life, and tasted fantastic!

Nothing more noteworthy happened in Madrid, except sight seeing through the taxi window - it looked very grand and I would be interested in exploring it further another time.

Now, back to the restaurant I'm currently in. I ate squid and am drinking a small glass of red wine (I know, I know, I'll have a hangover tomorrow). I'm sitting next to some German people (schlaufen mit dem Hagenbauer!!). Sleep well. xoxo

A trip to London

Non-organic sea salt?! How is that even possible?! Is the planet really that polluted that the sea isn't organic?! What on earth have they (we) done to it?! 

I'm aboard a British Airways flight to Madrid, because that's how I roll, and I have an organic shortbread biscuit in front of me, which apparently is "sublimely buttery to please even the most particular palate". Well it ain't gonna be going anywhere near my palate, I can assure you! My body being a temple, and all that. Instead I'm tucking into a chicken couscous meal and wishing it was cheese. 

I flew out of London City Airport, an aptly named airport what with it being in the city and all. It's full of business types trying to look business-like. Black 3/4-length coat, black laptop bag and a hands-free kit. Preferably talking about something important on the phone. "Buy! Buy! Sell! Sell!" Or something. You'd never see them in the dark, but if you're not travelling too fast you might hear them sound important early enough not to run into them. My location before heading to the airport was 1 Canada Square, Canary Wharf, also full of above-mentioned business types. What I love about London, and trust me, there are very few things I love about London, is that the business-types (and any other type for that matter) come in all colours and sizes, yet they all manage to look the same. I'm quietly proud that I stand out from the crowd with my navy blue jacket, grey laptop rucksack and general ridiculousness. Although how anyone would know what ridiculousness is in my head at any one time is ridiculous in itself. Perhaps the guy sitting next to me now is reading my blog. If so - mind your own business and get back to sleeping with your mouth open. I'm totally gonna yawn rape you in your sleep.

I'm enjoying being out and about a bit, it's been a while, and my friend Katherine told me that she'd like another blog post. I can't let the fans down now, can I? I will make sure I write about profound things, like how shit the hotel is, or how I got lost during a run and ended up in a bullring. (I really hope that doesn't happen.) The weather in Madrid is set to be pretty cold though, and I didn't  bring any gloves so I'm gonna have to suck it up if I want to go running. And I do want to go running, it would be a missed opportunity otherwise. 

The dude next to me is reading Harry Potter. Ridiculous. 

Right, signing off now in order to carry on with my rock n roll lifestyle of playing solitaire. Laters.

A few failed attempts at finishing a game of solitaire and I've had to endure the guy next to me pulling greenies (do people still call it that?) and someone has guffed and it stinks. I want off this plane. 

Right, I'm off the plane and in my hotel room, as if by magic.  It's the Holiday Inn, but it's a bit posh for a Holiday Inn! Check this out:

Never seen that in a budget hotel. Bet it doesn't work. Night all!