Our car was brought round to the front of the hotel, which is situated in Central Downtown Old Granada. The significance of this is that we had somehow found the place the night before after driving up and down cobbled streets where the clearance either side was sometimes down to six inches, no kidding. It had been a hair raising trip in as we snaked around the labyrinth of the old town, me at the wheel, people pointing at us, quizzically. It was like the post robbery escape scene from "The Italian Job". At one point during the journey, I'd stopped to take a snap but I hadn't got my glasses and I was having difficulty selecting the right setting for the camera. Jeremy looked at me and calmly said "I think we'd better keep moving, this is no time for art". I took this shot as a poor substitute for the previous night's adventure. Somehow, the journey out of the town was shorter and sweeter as we headed off to Tarifa.