Friday morning we left the scene of the massacre and drove to Toledo, just south of Madrid. We parked in a free car park at the base of the old city. And as luck would have it someone had built an escalator up to the top. Although not as hot as our first week we appreciated the assistance.

Arriving at lunchtime is perfect when you’re in an old city – lots of tourist cafes. We found a small one cafe and ordered eggs, leeks and potatoes (chopped up and fried together) along with sparkling water. There were so many attractions we could have visited within ten minutes of the cafe but we picked just two.

The knights of Templar museum was underwhelming but had good toilets, we’ll call that a win. The El Greco museum on the other hand was most enjoyable. I had a vague recollection of an artist called El Greco but remembered nothing of his work but it wasn’t his art that I enjoyed. It was his house and garden. Well, when I say his house it wasn’t exactly his house, it wasn’t his house at all really.

Some years ago guy with enough money bought a house he thought had been El Greco’s, then renovated it so that it looked exactly as it did when El Greco was alive and well and painting. Now, I don’t know if this guy found out his mistake but if he did I hope he wasn’t too disappointed because although he may have been wrong about the house, he ended up creating something very beautiful. I’m glad he did.

Denis decided he wasn’t interested in El Greco so found a cafe nearby while I made my way to the museum. We had been travelling since early and had already walked a lot, it was getting hot and I was tired when I walked into the reception area. When it was my turn I asked for one ticket. The lady asked me something I didn’t understand (my Spanish is slightly better than my Japanese and a little worse than my French) but she asked again in English. “Are you over 65?”

Thinking I must look as tired as I feel, I smiled and said no. “It is free if you’re over 65, I have to ask and many people don’t look over 65. Like you, you don’t look over 65. I have to ask because it is €3 if you’re not.” She was out of breath by the time she finished and I was laughing. I handing over my money. She asks where was I from and when I said Ireland, she was delighted because her daughter’s teacher is from Ireland and “a lovely person”.

I’m was still smiling as I exited reception. It took me a moment to realise I’d entered into a cool dark green garden, sheltered from the sun, I’m all alone. The Spanish know how to generate shade. I suppose it’s key to surviving here. It feels like I’m being hugged, I feel grateful to the man who decided to create this place even if it’s not exactly where he thought it was. Happy mistake.