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at eight a.m. Breakfast consisted of a huge dish of
anchovies, swimming in oil and garlic, sausages,
olives, black and white bread, and first white wine
and then red. There were three bottles of white
wine and three of red and four of us to drink them.
At nine-thirty we left. My Pole, R., and I decided
that the only thing for us to do was to take a long
walk. We walked silently for about three miles
when we came to the sea-shore where we lay down
in a row on the pebbles and slept. There was, of
course, no question of the tide coming in or going
out as there is practically no tide at all in the
Mediterranean and some hours later we woke up
feeling rather worse and smelling horribly of garlic.
I have never since really appreciated either ancho-
vies or garlic and hope that I shall not again have
to experience a Catalan breakfast. We had by now
just the railway fare back to Paris.