Haste Me Back.

Well hello all. I thought it was about darn well time that I yanked my head out of the sandy pretence that I ain't going to Spain (mainly because I'm already here) and wrote summink in this 'ere bloggy spot.

It is rather hard to believe I have been in Madrid for two weeks already, although I am certainly beginning to settle in.

My Ukulele and I have been trotting about on the Madrid metro, gracing Spanish families with our presence and the dulcet tones of Incy Wincy Spider and Row, Row, Row Your Boat as language-learning devices.

My room is, as expected, a box. There is just about space for me to flail my arms around and goodness only knows that is important. That which it lacks in size it does NOT make up for in beauty. My window looks directly out onto a functioning lift-shaft, into which other inhabitants smoke. It is therefore best to keep it well and truly closed. The notions of natural light and fresh air are somewhat lost on this particular window.

However, I must not complain. I am ludicrously central which means almost all interesting things are walkable and my flatmates are lovely. There is so much to do in Madrid that I'll be amazed if 5 months will suffice.
Ah...and here is a picture of my local post office. No jokes.

Whilst my Spanish is still appalling, I am managing to avoid the initial cultural faux pas which monopolised my first few days here. Never again will I give my land lady a full-on hug when she is simply reaching behind me in an attempt to switch on a light. Lawks.

Well, as the time here reaches 3:30 in the morn I feel I have rambled on about very little for long enough and so I shall retreat. News of successful gigs in Inglaterra and samples of potential new songs are like honey to my Spanish ears. Keep 'em coming I say.

I leave you with one assertion: I AM LITERALLY SO EXCITED ABOUT COMING BACK FOR THE WHY GIG.
Haste ME back I say. Haste me back.
That is all for now.
Hasta luego peeps.