Oh we’re off to sunny Spain… Viva Espana!

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After a ropey night’s sleep feeling itchy and several trips in the night to the shared toilets at the end of the corridor, we get up for half 10 and repack the car for the last time. At least we know this is the final leg of the journey and tomorrow we can just sit and relax- it’s a very nice thought. Hungry for some breakfast, we stop off at another Autogrill service station and choose our new French favourite- chicken, ratatouille and rice lol (along with another rancid coffee to wash it down with). We power on through and after what seems like a lifetime, we pass the welcome to Spain sign, woohoo! There are a number of armed policemen at the border, possibly in relation to the recent terrorist problems in France so even though we have nothing on us that is dangerous or dodgy, it’s hard not to look guilty and Greg is convinced we are going to get pulled over. But like France and us, the policemen must “Je suis Charlie” (the car) and we continue on unhampered.

Once again we start the countdown to Barcelona, going from 625km to 400km, 225km to 107km and then less than 50km. This time we pass through the outskirts of Barcelona without incident (spotting the sea for the very first time)and continue on towards Valencia. Valencia comes and goes, and the next signpost is for Alicante, which makes us grin like little children who’ve just been given a large bar of chocolate (oh I could really go a big bar of chocolate just now). It’s only 270km away, but we’ve hit the wall at the last hurdle, and every time we see a signpost it seems we’ve made little progress at all. Night has fallen too, meaning it becomes even more difficult to concentrate and focus on the remainder of the journey. This results in another small tet-a-tet around Alcoy (about half an hour from Alicante). But we eventually make it to Alicante and then follow the N332 for the last leg, passing all the usual landmarks along the way until we are in Torrevieja and only 3km away from home.

We’re totally starving by now as we haven’t actually ate anything of substance since our chicken and veg meal at lunchtime (as I’ve already mentioned, it’s hard to find something appropriate to eat at service station shops when you’re a coeliac and we’ve survived on packs of almonds and haribo sweets thus far). Our plan is to stop at McDonalds again but as we drive up to it, it is closed. It’s after midnight now and therefore we deduce it must shut at 12 during the winter months. We plough on and stop at a takeaway shop enroute to the flat, but once again she has just closed and has no food left. We’re beginning to think we’ll be having a liquid dinner tonight, but Greg suggests we try the Abby (an irish pub close to the flat) as one last resort. I’m not convinced, especially in the middle of winter, but sure enough they are still serving. They even have a gluten free menu which impresses me no end. We order fish fingers and a baked potato, and literally inhale it as soon as it comes. Stuff fine dining and posh restaurants, it is what it is and I am absolutely loving it. Unfortunately my stomach isn’t loving it half an hour later as I realise with defeat that I am most definitely allergic to fish and suffer a bad allergic reaction (unless they have used normal breadcrumbs as they can’t be bothered making gluten free at that time of night). Greg is sympathetic to a point, but also annoyed that his drinking partner has been prematurely taken out for the night. Oh well, there’s always tomorrow, or Friday, or Saturday….. J

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