Wednesday 15th February - Possibly the most boring post ever.

We now have a well developed routine of getting up around dawn, going for a swim and then breakfasting before heading out for the day. R has survived, more or less, the unintended route march from yesterday and confirms her intention to participate today. Today is laundry day and, for lack of a car, we plan to transport our grungy clothing to the German Zone by bus, then while away some time in Playa del Ingles before returning home with our neatly folded, sweet smelling couture. 

In the event this plan folds at the first fence when the required bus does not appear. We want to be at the laundry at 10.00 to minimise the time that we have to hang around.  There is a taxi waiting in a rank just along the street so we go for that. It costs €5, less than double the bus fare and drops us by the entrance to the Quick Wash rather than 300 yards away. Our wash is bigger than last week so costs more but it should see us through. This time we are told ready at 13.00, a bit of a bonus.

We feel the need for a coffee but have somehow stumbled into the only bit of Gran Canaria without cafés or bars. Eventually we find Mulligan's Irish Bar which has shaded tables outside and endure a mug each of overpriced, tepid Nescafé. Our own fault really. After a few days of hazy sunshine today is shaping up to be a scorcher (by our standards). In ensuring that we didn't forget the laundry we neglected to bring our hats. 

Opposite Mulligan's is the twice weekly Playa del Ingles market that we failed to find on Saturday. We recognise a few of the traders from the Puerto de Morgan market, including the lady who successfully sold R some earrings. By choosing our route carefully we are able to stay out of the sun and have a good mooch around. Eventually it is time for a refreshment but again there are no options. We rule out going back to Mulligan's and walk around a rather depressing and almost empty shopping plaza before D has a brainwave. The nearest point on the sea front has lifts connecting the Corniche and the promenade.

We find the lifts nae bother and descend a level to find a terrace of bars. We pick a spot that is offering two beers for the price of one and occupy a shady corner. The day's plan is reviewed and we decide to go for an early lunch before picking up our laundry. There is a long parade of eateries on the promenade 

We opt for the nearest one, Munich III, which is not too busy. The waiter is quite tolerant of our attempts to speak Spanish and confides that he is feeling the cold. Don't go to Arbroath amigo.

Lunch is serviceable and less than a third of the price of yesterday's. We chance our arm and call back at the laundry twenty minutes early. It's ready. We celebrate by taking a taxi home. And that is about it.  You don't want to know about Duolingo, siestas or an ad hoc tapas supper.

You probably don't want to know about the beer of the day but here it is. El Aguila (The Eagle) was apparently a big deal in Spain in the early 1900's and eventually taken over by Heineken. They closed the brewery but revived the brand as an unfiltered lager in the early 2000's. Given that it costs three times as much as the supermarket own brands already reviewed it is difficult to enthuse about this one. ** (out of five)