Even so, there are some typically Spanish things that I don't do. I don't eat olives, for example, which is a surprise to most Spaniards, and I wouldn't dream of having bread spread with olive oil for breakfast. And I don't take a siesta: I've never been someone who could stop and sleep in the middle of the day and, in fact, I find that the siesta time is a good time to do my supermarket shopping - because many people are asleep and so there aren't such long queues at that time of day.
Yesterday, however, was a totally different situation. Remembering that Monday will be a public holiday, I popped out yesterday after lunch to buy milk and a few other things that I needed from the supermarket. My back was sore when I got home, so I took the prescription pills that the doctor gave me this week, and I lay down "for ten minutes" with a book. Some time later, I was aware of the cats waking me up - as they usually do around 6.00 or 7.00 am, when they've decided that I've slept long enough and it's now time for breakfast. As I stumbled downstairs (the arthritis makes me very stiff in the mornings) I suddenly noticed that I was fully clothed. It wasn't breakfast time at all, but was only 9.30 pm and I had slept for several hours since getting back from the shops. It must be due to the combination of medication I'm taking (anti-inflammatories and muscle relaxants) because it was the second time this week that I had nodded off in the afternoon. For someone who never takes a siesta, it was a rather strange feeling to realise that this time I had slept the whole afternoon away. After a glass of juice - and the next dose of the anti-inflammatory - I realised that I just needed to head back to bed again. I don't think I've slept this much in years; I usually only sleep like this if I'm ill with pneumonia or something like that.
Despite last night's disappointment, the cats cheerfully woke me around 7 o'clock again this morning and seemed very relieved that this time I did give them breakfast.
