Madrid, Spain
Having learnt the lesson from last night that siestas don't necessarily lead to energetic nights out, we skip a snooze and set off an hour earlier on Saturday, heading straight for La Chueca. The streets are even more mobbed than usual and pedestrians weave through bumper to bumper traffic on the narrow roads, the Soho-esque vibe of this area drawing crowds of locals and tourists alike.
Shabby and rambling it's crammed with bars, restaurants, clubs, supermarkets and sex shops, flyers advertising myriad pleasures to be had at a variety of prices. Entertaining, vibrant and edgy, it still feels a safe place to have fun, far less dangerous than most provinicial British town centres. For a start - like everywhere else in Spain or Italy - everyone is dressed in proper clothes, not a item of sportswear to be seen. If only we could ban FootLocker and JJB Sports from the British high street we'd be so much better for it!
Down one little street we chance upon El Buo Taberna, a gorgeous restaurant which upon entry seems to have an hilarious mural of gay icons proudly emblazoned down one wall. In amongst Elton, George, Freddie and Marilyn seems to be the familiar face of Prince Harry.
We grab a corner table by the window and within moments are served a little delicacy of ham, tomato and roast green pepper on toast. We follow this with an order of the house speciality - a caramelised onion and goats cheese tortilla that is absolutely delicious, aided and abetted of course by a gorgeous selection of wines.
From our window seat we have the perfect vantage point to people watch and La Chueca is full of characters. Drag queens and bears, poseurs and couples, families with children and everyone in between seems to be on the streets.
Opposite us is another tapas restaurant and bar called La Vinoteca which seems very enticing, especially as the group of women who've sat down at the next table seem to be ******* constantly, so we order la cuenta, por favor and move across the road. Within moments we're ensconced at a glass-topped table made of an old barrel, cracking into some chargrilled vegetables with mozzarella and a spicy tempranillo.
We're both a bit tipsy by this point, so much so that Coman starts trilling through his rather limited repertoire of Spanish songs, which seems to consist of 'Mañana Mañana (Hubba Hubba)' by Peggy Lee and not much else. Time for a dessert!
We move on, walking through the main square of La Chueca, where we find the Mercado de San Anton, a four-floor market, bar and restaurant complex which is in full swing. Nowhere seems to be offering dessert and we soon find ourselves in the rooftop cocktail bar, but the drinks look lethal so we forego sampling a very tempting mojito and meander back through the winding streets towards our hotel.
Not quite ready for bed yet we end up in a bar called Nebraska, sandwiched between Hotel Emperador and a theatre hosting the Spanish production of the Lion King. It's pleasant enough and a final cheeky rioja proves to be the perfect nightcap. Around us people are tucking into strong coffees as though it's the start of the night rather than coming up to 1.30am, obviously planning on staying out for many hours to come.
We're nowhere near as hardcore and are happily ready for bed - these sunny days are too good to waste!
