When last we left our intrepid heroes, they had spent Saturday touristing around Granada. Sunday's main focus was returning to London, which proved most uncontroversial.
We set the alarm for 7am, since I had failed to reckon with just how early that is in Spain and booked a morning flight. The earlyness makes more sense if you look at a time zone map. Granada is considerably to the west of London -- but it is in the Central European Time Zone, the same as, say, Germany. So it is *way* the heck off to the western end of that time zone. Which means that, at 7am? Not even starting to be dawn yet. Yawn.
We got a taxi to the airport. This was notable mostly in that the driver was having way too much fun with the fact that, at 8:15 in the morning in Granada, there is *nothing* on the roads. I politely played dumb American and ignored the fact that, while kilometers per hour are much smaller than miles per hour, I am pretty sure that 135 KPH wasn't the speed limit.
So we got to the airport early, had the Canos de Chocolate that we had cleverly bought the night before (mmm -- Canos de Chocolate), and took the plane back. The ride from Granada to Madrid was pleasantly mellow and not too crowded. The one from Madrid to London was packed in like sardines, but fortunately wasn't too long.
The rest of the day was quiet. We took the opportunity to wander around Waltham market a bit -- it turns out that, just a few blocks from Peter and Miko's place, there is a long street that's been converted to a pedestrian mall, full of a riot of odd little shops. It being Sunday evening, pretty much everything was closed, but it was still a nice walk.
Thence a lovely dinner of pasta and red sauce from Miko, and bed.
Tomorrow: Kate goes to work, so I Do London