I'd been swimming, so I had an appetite. I've worked my way up to, thanks to Liz's encouragement, sets of 10 or 20 laps of crawl at a time (I did 60 in total... yay me) so it's not surprising after just a traditional Spanish breakfast of some bread, toasted, with oil, I was peckish. I wandered into the bar and had a coffee, almost by reflex ordering. Then I noticed that the chap next to me had some tortilla sandwich affair that he was attacking with some gusto (I put relish there but I've seen neither hide nor hair of any relish). I asked the waiter what pinchos they had, that being what these fine bar snacks seem to be called, and he reeled off a list. When he got to calamares the squid receptor in my brain pinged and I said I'd have one of those then. Three minutes later and I was the proud possessor of a squid buttie, three fat rings of goodness in batter in a crusty but not brittle bread roll, hot and lovely.  ¶ 9:33 AM