day three am

Monday morning cradling a café largo after tostados con tomate from the sullen faced proprietor of Hostel La Pedriza, who speaks no English. It's a day tripper town and I guess on a Monday morning he's worn out from being polite to his clients over the weekend? But it's OK. It's raining outside: not heavy, so I put on my waterproofs prior to the grand depart for Cercedilla on day three - already day three. By day four Madrid will be over the Sierras and beyond me. I've either another 7 or 10 days from today as those are the windows of opportunity through the rail strikes next week across England.