Fast forward... taxi from Valencia airport to the hotel along the scrubby marshland strip that seems to define the boundary between the older part of the city and the new, re-developed part and the port and marina. Swift glass or two of beer in the bar, shared a toasted sandwich and off to bed.
Thankfully there was a backup plan of an Italian place back across the bridge, near the hotel and that was open and nice and had people who were lovely working there. I had a lovely, tiny but rich, portion of ravioli with mushrooms and truffles in a cream sauce which filled me right up. Then, as the guide book said the place we renowned for its desserts, we had to have one and I had the lightest, darkest, tangiest chocolate mousse ever.
(Parade lap of all of the drivers on the F1 bus)
On the flight back we were as lucky as on the way out and got exit row seats, then co-incided with lots of handy transport options culminating in getting the last tram from East Croydon back home.