The strangest thing about Madrid was my unwavering belief that I had never been there before. I arrived and spent a day with one of our customers. Apart from the rather long lunch break that was taken quite late in the day, the visit was like many visits to our customers: useful, interesting, but I may as well have been in an office block in central London. The travelling just means I have less time to do what I need. While I was waiting at the airport for my return flight, I decided to go to the café bar and get myself a drink. As I walked, I took my tray from the pile of slightly damp cafeteria-style trays I had the strangest feeling of déjà vu. As I took my 330ml of French beer to a table, I began to realise that I had sat at this café before. Eventually, after searching my diary (thank goodness for the wonders of Palm), I discovered that I had travelled through Madrid on my way back from Spain in Christmas 2002. Funny, the tricks memory plays.