A Dump in Spades

I have returned to Marseilles and had a long telephone conversation with Agnes and she told me that I ought to carry on on my own adn find myself. Well I aint lost - oh no sireee. So I have packed my bag and I have travelled on a lon old journey round into Spain by Train. I could see the countryside become a bit more parched and I slated my thirst with copious quantities of Beer. Ahh the lovely nectar. I teamed up with an Australian from Melbourn called Frank and we go along like a house on fire and soon I had forgotton that Hippy nonsense I had fallen into back in the hills and I enjoyed a much more superficial slap on the back kind of laugh with Frank. He could drink some. We limped into Barcelona like a pair of mutton chops and I needed to have a piss which was when the badness happened and I returned into the station concourse to find my bag full of dirty laundry gone and so was Frank. It was bad for a second then I thought good riddance, at least I have my wallet in muy pants. So that was my introdcution to the land of the flameco gypsy and Fortuna. I am based in a small 2 star hotel and ready to have someaction once I have got this bout of food poisoning out of the way - dashing to the loo every 20 or 30 minutes sometimes more - for a quality explosive dump in spades.