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23 July 2024
Alan Morris in Barceloan University Hospital.

This was not where I expected to be waking up in Barcelona. My leg was giving me a lot of pain now, and they were treating it for an insect bite after last night's Doppler scan showed no thrombosis, and the x-ray showed no breaks.

Barcelona Hospital.

I found the hospital very boring, apart from the cute nurses who seemed to like talking to me to better their English language skills. Paul came in around lunchtime after going for a Segway tour up the beach. Luckily, he brought me bottled water, as they don't give you any in Spanish hospitals. I'm told you must buy it from a machine in the corridor. Paul went to get me another bottle and whilst he was away, I was moved to another room. I had to share with an elderly Spanish man who liked loud Spanish game shows on the telly and to wipe bits of excrement and blood on the dividing curtain between us. His wife spent most of the day and night arguing with him and using the loo in the room. They appear to be well-matched, loud, rude to staff and annoying to me. It always irks me that I didn't learn to swear in Spain.

There was not a lot to do. I was bored and worrying about my mum.