18th Sept '04. Saturday Night.

Young women of Valladolid, I salute you! I can only stand by, mute, and feebly applaud, as my chin hits the pavement *CLANG* and my eyeballs spring out onto my cheekbones *SCHLUP* for the hundredth time tonight.

19th Sept '04.

Oh holy mother of sodomy! The smell coming from my trousers as I sit down to breakfast in my room suggests - and it's rather a firm suggestion - that my legs and related areas have died without me noticing. One could mould the air like ice cream with a scoop.
Thank the Lord! It's not me. It's some outrageous German cheese I bought yesterday. Whatever will the maid think though?