Pasaportes perdidos

Spain is supposed to maintain a constant balmy 28 degrees at all times but Malaga today threw at us some truly grim UK-style drizzle and mizzle. Main activities were restricted to eating, lounging and drying socks. Despite mentioning it approximately every cinco minutos, we didn't get our act together to sample the delicious churros con chocolate.

Plus some emergency shenanigans when both of the parents' passports were lost en route between hotel and airport. Cue frantic efforts to track down the taxi driver who had ferried them and communicate with the British consulate to negotiate temporary travel documents.

I don't know many other countries where the fourth city has a British consulate, which is perhaps testament to the number of times passports fall overboard from yachts in Marbella or are waged and lost as stakes in drinking games in nearby Torremolinos. I also read a grim fact once that after the UK, Spain is the country which sees the highest number of British deaths. Plenty to keep a Costa del Sol consulate busy.

Thailand was second on the death list, for any morbid blip readers.

A dramatic end to a relaxing week of enjoying all that España has to offer. Spaniards are a nationality that applauds the crew when planes land.