We’ve had a rather frustrating day today, though not entirely. You can read about the good bit on my other blog.
We sat down to plan what we’re doing next this morning. We know already that we’re flying home from Lyons in France on the 7th November, but what we were going to do in the week before that hadn’t been organised. In the end, after some debate, we decided to go overnight from Madrid to Paris on the 3rd. Tried to book online. Complications. Eventually decided we’d go down to the Railway Station and book there. This was after lunch, and we arrived at the station just before 13.58. How do I know it was that time? Because that was the time we picked out a ticket from the booking office and sat down to wait.
We were ticket number 567. The tickets that were being handled when we sat down were in the mid 300s.
It was around four o’clock when we finally got attended to, so you can imagine our disbelief when the guy behind the glass told us we couldn’t book an international ticket because international tickets were only booked on Saturdays until 1 pm. And not at all on Sundays.
Celia berated him a little. To put it mildly. I had to carry her out of the office screaming. We did manage to book a ticket to Madrid for the 1st at least - before she had hysterics.
So that put paid to another day in Valencia. Our intention had been to go to the Market, and then get a tram to the beach. Achieved neither. Worse, Celia’s heel, which hasn’t been playing up since she had a cortisone injection last year suddenly decided to make its presence felt again. We’ve been walking around Valencia mostly, so far. But with her heel playing up we’re not sure how we’ll get from A to B. We got a bus to the show tonight, but we walked back (because it was difficult to find a bus), and her heel didn’t enjoy it.