So the Lonely Planet, in its received wisdom, warns us off visiting Seville in July/August. Google weather (above) illustrates why.
Note to self: next time read guidebook BEFORE booking trip. But it's a good excuse, as if we need one, to down gallons of sangria and indulge in long, languid siestas.
Now stumbling through the dance of pre-holiday preparations: the Animator is attempting to speed learn Spanish from a CD (the words 'too', 'little' and 'late' come to mind,) while I'm trying to figure out what you're supposed to pack for temperatures that threaten to turn visitors into barbecue spare ribs. And why the hell can I never find my togs when I need them?