The day of the Alcazar visit arrives- the penultimate day of our week in Seville. And it’s hot- possibly the hottest day of a very warm week.

During the second half of the week, we’ve been using the supermarkets opposite the hotel to gather brunch items- baguettes, cheese and cold meats, which is all very handy. Judging by the fellow guests by the swimming pool, this is what everyone else is doing, too!

We have our tickets for the visit and a time slot, so we set off down to Seville centre- a route we’ve become familiar with now, except that although we’ve visited the cathedral- and we know the Alcazar is nearby somewhere- we can’t seem to find it.

We wander round, scrutinise our map, walk again. It’s hot. I feel for the poor horses, lined up- albeit in the shade, to pull tourists around on carts.

Finally, we trudge up a narrow lane at the side of the cathedral and there it is, which makes me feel foolish, as it was behind the cathedral all the time. At first, on seeing long queues for the Alcazar, we feel smug to have bought tickets- that is until we see that of course- so has everyone else. Despite the allotted time slot, we must queue with everyone else. There are some pockets of shade though, thank goodness!

At last we’re through the gate and at first there’s nothing to hint at what lies inside the tall, ancient walls. We go first inside the building and up the stairs, where there’s an exhibition of very old tiles- 16th and 17th century- so astonishingly fresh and contemporary-looking, I’d be happy for my bathroom to be clothed in them! There is also a tiled portrayal of the crucifixion.

Downstairs the building consists of a series of small courtyards, shaded and charming. but the real beauty of the Alcazar lies in its vast and gorgeous garden, Moorish in design and set out in garden ‘rooms’. It’s very formal and there is a sense of calm in the lines of hedging, the squares, the symmetry and the planting.

We descend steps to a raised pond, where a few hopeful ducks swim within arm’s reach. A woman holds out a carefully manicured finger and I hold my breath until the nearest duck snaps at it, then I’m disappointed when she withdraws just in time.

Each area, marked by low hedges, is planted with shrubs, palms, trees and flowers- a rose garden being one. It’s a riot of flowers and colour for November. Further on the garden becomes less formal and wooded, a sea of green Mediterranean shrubs beneath the trees.

A staircase leads up to the top of the retaining wall, a covered corridor with views over the garden; a great way to end the visit.

At the end of our week, we make one more visit to the restaurant we found where we had a simple but delicious steak, then it’s time to take our leave of Seville- an elegant and beautiful city with a thrilling array of grand, historic sights…

Novels by Jane Deans [Grace]: The Year of Familiar Strangers and The Conways at Earthsend. Visit my website: janedeans.com