This is the sort of weather that flays.
Bright sunshine with a brisk breeze little short of a wind. The beach (god, lying next to the sea is a potent, habit forming drug!) was fullish, but not with the whitened sepulchres of British bodies, but rather Iberian folk who were already sporting a more than respectable tan. Although this is common in Spain, Catalans are a varied bunch and do not always (or even usually) follow the dark, swarthy stereotype which forms in the mind of a Brit when asked to think of a Spaniard.
Castelldefels is the resort of choice of the day tripping Barcelona dweller so, although I am assured that there is a sizeable British contingent in Castelldefels, they rarely make their presence felt and the beach is the preserve of Spanish and Catalan.
I am sure that in the more cosmopolitan setting of Sitges just a little way down the coast there are going to be a generous amount of fried skin whimpering under cold showers this evening!
My concern with the weather is not just to give myself the opportunity to have a cheap gloat at the expense of my fellow countrymen still resident in my fellow country, but rather to worry about what weather Emma is going to have during her stay with us. For the last couple of days with Dianne and Gwen the weather was cloudy with occasional sunny periods. I am sure that would be acceptable given the vicious weather that August has seen fit to visit upon the British, but I am hoping for better.
At the moment I am looking out of the window at flawless blue skies with the harmony of the moment only shattered by the incredible inconsideration of our neighbours. They have a sizeable portion of the ‘Owner Syndrome’ which affected some of our fellow dwellers in the flat.
This syndrome (well attested in the medical literature) has symptoms which are easily visible. If a person owns (rather than rents) their accommodation they have to show that ownership in what has been described as ‘Ownership Behaviour.’
This takes the form of talking loudly at all times of the day and night; having a television blaring during the day which has been set up outside the house; colonizing areas of the swimming pool; having a daughter who . . . but there I shall draw a discrete veil. It is the typical behaviour of the obnoxious nouveau riche who has to let everyone know that they have made it.
I do realize that the preceding comments may appear to be almost unbearably, well, snobbish. But, I should care!
Emma has arrived and we have eaten and drunk. Isn’t that what a holiday is about?
Bright sunshine with a brisk breeze little short of a wind. The beach (god, lying next to the sea is a potent, habit forming drug!) was fullish, but not with the whitened sepulchres of British bodies, but rather Iberian folk who were already sporting a more than respectable tan. Although this is common in Spain, Catalans are a varied bunch and do not always (or even usually) follow the dark, swarthy stereotype which forms in the mind of a Brit when asked to think of a Spaniard.
Castelldefels is the resort of choice of the day tripping Barcelona dweller so, although I am assured that there is a sizeable British contingent in Castelldefels, they rarely make their presence felt and the beach is the preserve of Spanish and Catalan.
I am sure that in the more cosmopolitan setting of Sitges just a little way down the coast there are going to be a generous amount of fried skin whimpering under cold showers this evening!
My concern with the weather is not just to give myself the opportunity to have a cheap gloat at the expense of my fellow countrymen still resident in my fellow country, but rather to worry about what weather Emma is going to have during her stay with us. For the last couple of days with Dianne and Gwen the weather was cloudy with occasional sunny periods. I am sure that would be acceptable given the vicious weather that August has seen fit to visit upon the British, but I am hoping for better.
At the moment I am looking out of the window at flawless blue skies with the harmony of the moment only shattered by the incredible inconsideration of our neighbours. They have a sizeable portion of the ‘Owner Syndrome’ which affected some of our fellow dwellers in the flat.
This syndrome (well attested in the medical literature) has symptoms which are easily visible. If a person owns (rather than rents) their accommodation they have to show that ownership in what has been described as ‘Ownership Behaviour.’
This takes the form of talking loudly at all times of the day and night; having a television blaring during the day which has been set up outside the house; colonizing areas of the swimming pool; having a daughter who . . . but there I shall draw a discrete veil. It is the typical behaviour of the obnoxious nouveau riche who has to let everyone know that they have made it.
I do realize that the preceding comments may appear to be almost unbearably, well, snobbish. But, I should care!
Emma has arrived and we have eaten and drunk. Isn’t that what a holiday is about?
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