The End.

Returned to the hostel around five. That was my 'bite' of Toledo. It is a place which seems to have more history than just about anywhere: well that's kind of true of the entire Mediterranean basin. It has the perfect ingredients for the rise and fall of civilizations. A calm warm place, with occasional disturbances. And now I sit in a side street cafeteria and I am the only fool up at seven, except for the binmen, grocers and bakers. Toledo needs to start another day for UNESCO so rushed to put on a cleaned façade.

Breaking all the rules this morning as the final slice of the moon is hanging above Plaza de Zocodover: it's my third coffee and I am being distracted by Real Madrid TV in the corner with its canned laughter at 8am. It's very easy when you can buy anything you desire. What fun is football when the depths of your pockets are as deep your countries national debt? Jumpers for goal posts and kicking a deflated ball, tennis ball, golf ball or tin can around a busted pavement just isn't potential anymore in our society with no material shortages any more: it is the era of too much plenty and a time when "Black Friday" is all society seems to care about?

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Madrid: and it's safe to say the Chinese are coming.

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Back in Manchester and it is safe to say the Chinese are coming.

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Back in Leeds and it's safe to say the whole city is pissed at 9pm in the station, and the Chinese are coming.

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Sunday morning and I've a wash to do and, finally, a deep, warm restorative bath!