Misery and Consolation.

After suffering a broken hip for six weeks, hubby went to hospital expecting to be told he could throw away his frame, go over to crutches and start serious rehab exercises.

Woe!

Two more months with the frame, no physio except for a few exercises lying and sitting down , putting no weight on the bad leg!

A black cloud descended on the pair of us at the thought of all the weeks of hobbling about ahead of us. No Christmas away, no raving up on the church square on New Year´s Eve, no walking up the High Street to watch the Three Kings´Parade!!

Misery, Doom, Catastrophe! Bugger, bugger, bugger!!!!

So we have moved over into consolation comfort eating. Several times a week we go through the tedious process of getting a man with a seriously challenged hip down to the ground floor in a lift the size of a small shower cubicle.

First, I go down with a folded wheelchair, assemble it on the ground floor and return to collect the other half, who has been sitting on a stool with his zimmer frame at the ready. We squeeze into the lift, go down and he sits in the wheelchair while I return to our floor and put the stool and the frame away from the lift door.

I then go downstairs again and we finally make our way out of the block of flats and around the corner to our current favourite bar where we order a plate of magra con tomate ( see picture above) and swill it down with wine and then coffee. It´s a very common tapas in Spain but this bar does the best one I´ve tasted yet.

It doesn´t exactly speed the healing process of the bone but by heck, it tastes great and as comfort food when you´re feeling thoroughly hacked off, it works wonders.

Plus, the weather here on the Costas is still lovely and a sunny 22 degrees so it´s better than being stuck inside watching the rain belting down. Comfort in small mercies.