For the first time in perhaps fifteen years the weekend has become something that I can positively enjoy. The reason is simple; my weekday life revolves almost entirely around my radiotherapy. From Monday to Friday each week I have an appointment at half past three at the University Hospital in Málaga. This involves a round trip of 130 kilometres, which even with a diesel car amounts to an awful lot of fuel, so I am happy that the timing of the appointment allows me to travel in and out by bus. However, the timetables of buses from here to Nerja and from Nerja to Málaga make for a long day. Leaving the house at 11.20, I catch the 11.30 bus to Nerja. This enables me to take the 12.10 bus from Nerja, arriving in Málaga at 1.30 with time for a spot of lunch before heading on up to the hospital. Treatment, when called through, takes no more than five or six minutes, and then it’s back down to the city centre, on to Nerja, up to the village and home towards seven o’clock. The hospital itself is becoming a kind of club, as the same people are in the waiting area every day, and so we greet each other cheerily as we arrive and wave a friendly “Hasta mañana!” to everyone on the way out. In between times, I am privileged to have a crash course in listening to and learning to understand spoken Andalucian Spanish as people discuss their symptoms, treatments and a whole host of other things. Given that I have been taught Spanish as spoken in Madrid, and that the variant spoken here in the village is almost totally incomprehensible, this is an extremely useful learning environment. And, as people assured me would be the case, now that it has begun treatment is proceeding apace; already 20% is behind me.