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Yesterday

By now it is way past nine and there has been no sign of food except for some small pastry sausage things and a few olives. This is remedied by more mussels than you thought existed. It takes four butch men to carry them through. They (the mussels) are wonderful. Not everyone is eating them so you take full advantage and eat more mussels than you think you even ate in Bruges. Unfortunately the last one you eat is barely cooked and you feel ill throughout the rest of the night. Maybe, though, it is psychological as you do not chuck, though at times you are willing yourself not to.

The main course is Paella and lots of wine. You are sat with two Australians, a guy from Southampton, a young woman from Estonia (who refuses to try whelks as they looke too snail-like, despite your scolding) and a man from Hong Kong - a truly international feel.

There is a disco that goes on till one and you fall asleep on the coach back to Nimes. It has been a marvellous day, and now all you have to do is return home to Leeds, and explain the drop in your bank balance to your wife.
End Of Story