WEDNESDAY 19th February, 08

The fright of my life recently when I cracked an egg with the intention of poaching it and a baby chick was revealed. I swear I leaped in the air. Not nice.

And since it is one month since I last made an entry in this diary I will tell you what has happened. Nothing is the answer. I have done dozens of things, in fact I have been working non stop and nothing has happened.

My ‘Plankton’ strip has been with newspapers for three weeks and no reaction whatsoever.

By request I sent off my play ‘Fantasyland’ and a copy of the ‘Bristow’ play. Nothing.

I sent off my children’s book “Tommy Nutt and the Terrorists' three weeks ago to a new agent. Nothing.

I have written and sent off some fifteen short stories. An acknowledgement – (thank you, Neil).

My book ‘Dickenory’ (now changed to ‘What the Dickens!’) (which has been with a noted publisher for fifteen months is still with the same publisher.) My old agent is strangely confident.

I have seven novels waiting to be sent off. Ready, typed and waiting.

It does not appear that the recipients are leaping in the air. It would appear that a dead baby chick causes more stir than yours truly. Are we disheartened? No we are not. We are going to wear them down with persistence. We are going to hammer them. We are going to bring down the walls. Watch this space.

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Weather perfect again. And a mind boggling occurrence. The best meal I have ever eaten. Ever. Every item excitingly new and every morsel of food wonderful. And it happened in the must unusual place – a tourist trap.

The three of us, Julia, Carlos and myself were looking around the village of Patones de Arriba , a mountain village 48 kilometres north of Madrid , a village where in 1808 a shepherd who called himself King of Patones started to lay down the law to King Carlos III – what's that? Skip the story and tell you about the meal? Patience, my friends and I will tell you of the superb spinach croquettes and the migas (fried breadcrumbs with chorizo, bacon and grapes) which were served up as the starter to what was undoubtedly the ‘meal of the century' in due course.

The King of Spain's reply to this upstart – You are not interested in the reply? You want to hear something of the main dish? The prunes wrapped in lean pork and served up with charcoal smoked pieces of apple? Don't remind me – I can taste it still. Along with the superbly textured crème caramel that finished it off. What a meal! And the price? 87 euros. (Twenty pounds per head.)

Wow!

And the name of the restaurant? ‘ Las Eras.' Don't miss it.

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In perfect weather, cloudless blue skies, to Chinchon, some 20 miles out of Madrid, whose village square is a bull ring and whose many first floor restaurants look down on that ring as in an age long past, to buy a pair of cheap and cheerful shoes (black).

Wearing said shoes, to lunch at nearby Titulcia, a lunch enlivened by the behaviour of spoilt and badly brought up children and parents unable to control them. Toys invaded the table behind us. At one point there were four Mickey Mouse dolls on the table being fed by a curly haired kid of about two. A chair toppled over at a table to one side. More loud kids there too. “Give them anything they want,” from idiotic father.

Food excellent. I had merluza.

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