Forgive my tawdry attempt to attract your attention with that headline. The “slime” I refer to is a subdural hematoma, which we’ve discussed on these pages before. (If you share a vulgar interest in items corporeal with, say, twelve-year-old boys, you can search for the YouTube video of the removal of a subdural hematoma yourself. You have been warned.)

The “scene” is L’Escala, Spain, the captivating seaside town we visited in April where my personal subdural hematoma experience began. We returned to L’Escala yesterday for an overnight visit. The place is far too charming to condemn just because I encountered a medical event there; and besides, our last visit was, well, sorta cut short.

This time, we rented bikes and pedaled up the long promenade that follows the contours of the Costa Brava, lined with dunes and sunbathers basking under the Spanish sun. Our escapade took us to the tiny settlement of Sant Martí d’Empúries, settled by the Greeks in the Sixth Century BC. Some of the original structures still stand, and situated (as it is) on a high outcrop overlooking the Mediterranean, Sant Marti can be quite beguiling on a sunny day in May.

Slightly beyond Sant Marti is a sinuous, sandy beach with an unusually hip beach bar, straight out of Acapulco or maybe Barbados. There’s something about casually flopping your bike in the sand, strutting up to a beach bar, and ordering a Coke (yes, we ordered Cokes) that takes you right back to your capricious twenties – if you spent your twenties in Acapulco or maybe Barbados.

And rode a bike. And drank Coke.