Zadar; food and drink; think and sleep.

Last night I finished the evening with home made tomato soup: local beef and cherry tomatoes, veg stock, garlic, salt, pepper, olive oil and oregano. Which followed a bottle each of Medvedgrad Pivnica Wheat (Dva klasa), Amber (Grička vještica) Black (Crna kraljica) in the bar (60kuna for three). Seems a good brewery, although they declare their use of extract by percentile and it is almost impossible to pronounce the names of the beers.

Had a very funny and informative conversation with the skipper of a yacht who was brought up learning English through Blazing Saddles, MP Holy Grail and 'Allo 'Allo - was tempted to call him Raymond Luxury Yacht - about who to blame for the war and whether cartwheel surfing might become a sport. The bar is called Zodiac and it is bluesy - the only one that is truly BoHo that I've seen, although Split and Sarajevo must have their share - It's where the locals go after putting up with travellers, 'excursioners' and other zombie flesh eating, maggot dropping, slug trailed tourists. It is a good place to escape the unceasing cleansing deluge, persons keep falling in off the street and it helps me to adjust to British Summer Time. Before I bid adieu we cleansed our minds with one glass of liquor - medicinal - which helped propel me back out through the City Galleria into the inventive light and refreshingly healthy soup I had for supper.

Repeated the purchase from the vinoteka next to the Stari Grad market, but bought a bottle of Grasevina this time.

This morning I left number 8 having paid for tonight and after a brief muesli, cherries and yogurt.

But I woke up at four with the whirling frenetic thought: fuck! mosquitoes! Switching on the light I scanned the walls for the thoughtless critters and it was lingering just above my head; I picked her up and placed her out in the rain: sorry girl but one suck is enough: I don't know where you bit yet.

Dig out the rain clothes. Off for a walk into yonder town to flirt with Croatians again. The girls are 'mama' for sure ... An Italiano sultry yet despondent opiated affectation, forever caressing cancer sticks higher into the ether; there to mingle with the corporal spirit of dead Yugoslavs consumed in rites of passage over the seldom kind centuries. The word Slav is thought to be the route of slave, or Vis Versa, from Latin/Roman times - I read that somewhere recently.

Skewers, chicken thighs, spices, salad? Chargrill. How many espressos is too many. Always before ten am, never later, and only two - one with sugar one without; nevermore and only ever tea, water or pure juuce afterwards, in case I suffer the edgy catastrophe involved in a caffeine high crash come-down. Time to meander further and think about fresh veg and local meat in the market.

Well I think that was a fruitful venture! Now I have Cevapi, longer pork sausage and enough garden-fresh, organic veg to enjoy with the Grasevina I brought back yesterday. Sure I am down to 51 kuna yet I will not need any food for Saturday and the flight back - if you're allowed to take sandwich sized boxes on flights?

The rain has cleared, a final glass of vino and a siesta. Zadar is cool. It's a working city, with a little roughness, yet it was wholesome to return to Vice's mother's residence for r&r. Oh and a few herbs to be brewed to keep the tensions down: two visits to LADS and ADHD in June.

Didn't move most of the day: slept until 6 got up had home squeezed orange juice, snacked, packed and attacked bed again. Must 'do' something tomorrow! There is definitely one of them mosquitoes in my room: should I really care?