So I am back, back from the sunny delights of Spain to the rain and gloom of London. As we were landing I had the briefest thought that the pilot had been wrong saying that London was two degrees and covered in mist, he was right. Mind you Stanstead is not quite London and it did clear up on the Express Train (how is an hour and several stops express?) but it’s not the hot sun of Barcelona.
When we left Barcelona there was no sun in sight as it was the delicious hour of 5am, that’s 4am British time and thanks to the lovely Joan who we had befriended from Boyberry (a DVD rental and internet shop with cabins is all I will say) we had a tour of the gay area of Barcelona and all the bars and hotels who completely spoiled us with booze meaning that we ended up going to bed at 1am very drunk and still feeling slightly merry at 5am.
I slept on the coach to Reus and when I awoke at the airport it hit me I was leaving. Our last day had been very leisurely, mainly as on New Years Day everything was shut. We went up Montjuic and I braved a cable car and then strolled down the mountain to the marina for a final wander around the town via the Picasso Museum. Picasso is my ultimate favourite artist, I just love his work and after the disaster of the closed museum in Paris, I had been patiently waiting to see the Barcelona museum. We hadn’t gone up until now as Mr B doesn’t enjoy art galleries and there were a lot of other things on offer. We got there… it was closed. I think the heavens might be telling me something. I didn’t have a tantrum though, just sighed in the resolve that it wasn’t meant to be, plus gives me another reason to go back to one of my favourite cities.
So now the honeymoon is over what happens next? They never tell you that in fairy tales, in fact they never go past the wedding and ‘all living happily ever after’. I mean we have a curry and then Celebrity Big Brother and an early night lined up, I am not sure if that was what happened with Snow White, Elizabeth Bennett (oh come on it’s almost a fairy tale) or Cinderella. Though I was obsessed with fairy tales (don’t think the irony has been missed) as a 26 (almost 27) year old cynic I know happy endings don’t always happen. Watch this space I guess. Actually what was nice when coming through customs was that the guard, who are normally formidable and look at you as if you have no right to come to the UK even if it’s your homeland let alone if its not, said that we looked ‘incredibly happy together, it must have been a lovely honeymoon’ and it was and a wonderful way to start a new year.
Now it's back to the real world, work, bills and I have also been dared and accepted to do one of the biggest projects in ages, nothing grand, but something big and quite special. I'll probably blog about that over the weekend once its finishing touches are done, plus I really need to work on my New Years Resolutions. Until then here are some pictures and then I will stop boring you with all things Barcelona I promise.
When we left Barcelona there was no sun in sight as it was the delicious hour of 5am, that’s 4am British time and thanks to the lovely Joan who we had befriended from Boyberry (a DVD rental and internet shop with cabins is all I will say) we had a tour of the gay area of Barcelona and all the bars and hotels who completely spoiled us with booze meaning that we ended up going to bed at 1am very drunk and still feeling slightly merry at 5am.
I slept on the coach to Reus and when I awoke at the airport it hit me I was leaving. Our last day had been very leisurely, mainly as on New Years Day everything was shut. We went up Montjuic and I braved a cable car and then strolled down the mountain to the marina for a final wander around the town via the Picasso Museum. Picasso is my ultimate favourite artist, I just love his work and after the disaster of the closed museum in Paris, I had been patiently waiting to see the Barcelona museum. We hadn’t gone up until now as Mr B doesn’t enjoy art galleries and there were a lot of other things on offer. We got there… it was closed. I think the heavens might be telling me something. I didn’t have a tantrum though, just sighed in the resolve that it wasn’t meant to be, plus gives me another reason to go back to one of my favourite cities.
So now the honeymoon is over what happens next? They never tell you that in fairy tales, in fact they never go past the wedding and ‘all living happily ever after’. I mean we have a curry and then Celebrity Big Brother and an early night lined up, I am not sure if that was what happened with Snow White, Elizabeth Bennett (oh come on it’s almost a fairy tale) or Cinderella. Though I was obsessed with fairy tales (don’t think the irony has been missed) as a 26 (almost 27) year old cynic I know happy endings don’t always happen. Watch this space I guess. Actually what was nice when coming through customs was that the guard, who are normally formidable and look at you as if you have no right to come to the UK even if it’s your homeland let alone if its not, said that we looked ‘incredibly happy together, it must have been a lovely honeymoon’ and it was and a wonderful way to start a new year.
Now it's back to the real world, work, bills and I have also been dared and accepted to do one of the biggest projects in ages, nothing grand, but something big and quite special. I'll probably blog about that over the weekend once its finishing touches are done, plus I really need to work on my New Years Resolutions. Until then here are some pictures and then I will stop boring you with all things Barcelona I promise.
The gorgeous hotel room
The husband on the beach
Me on top of Gaudi's Casa Mila
New Years Eve 2008 drunk on very cheap lager in the marina, just as it should be
A pair of complete honeymoon tourists (but very happy ones)
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