It Was A Hoot
We decided to stay on a few days in Cadiz; it was cooler than London or Paris (which is apparently hotter than Death Valley). So, straight into the Sixth Extinction with Trump, Johnson and the rest of the deranged madmen now running the world. Next year, 60 other Indian cities follow Chennai into a waterless future. The husband’s doom-laden pronouncements of ‘all fighting each other for food by 2025’ seems to be correct.
It was a good trip. For some reason I ended up in the sierras surrounded by owls (It’s okay, I have a leather glove on). Watching flamingos lifting from the salt inlets of the Isla Minima was a delight, and moving between empty towns and deserted villages you feel as if all the complaints about tourism are exaggerated – until a look at the facts reveals who is moving and where; the Chinese are by far the world’s biggest tourists, and they all want to go to there Eiffel Tower, which is…weird. Me, I’m interested in the hinterlands – odd corners where dodgy saints are buried and locals are disappearing.
Tomorrow I’m back in London and burying myself in the second draft of the next Bryant & May book. My research will involve rhythmic sounds, churches, songs, fake news, autism, madness, fruit and impossible deaths. I’m looking forward to it immensely.