Blimey.  Did not see that one coming.  Went out for chicken to La Bota and sat with Auntie Rose, Uncle Joan and Auntie Jenny (not my relatives, but there you go).  Enjoyed dinner and then went to Nuria's and felt the need to force down dessert - Maduixa.  Delightful.  Then decided to go to Carlos's for carajillos but the lads were closing up so we went to The Black Bull instead.  Came wandering down the street and there was a man laying in the street outside Verona.  Appears he's had a heart attack and had just keeled over.  Problem is, unlike in England, where they decided you're dead and cram you into the back of an ambulance, over here you have to wait for the Coroner to come and deduce that you're dead before they can even touch you.  Terrific.  So, with that, the poor man was left lying on the pavement covered in a silver foil sheet.  With the whole street of people standing looking. And some even taking photos from the hotel balcony.  Sick bastards. Poor, poor thing.  Eventually got taken away by the Coroner.  Believe he had a wife with him.  I wish her luck now, what with all the red tape and legal crap she needs to sort before she can take him home.  Hmmm.  Interesting night.  Don't like that though.  Gets me to thinking about dying.  Which is not good bearing in mind I'm a major Thanatophobic...