And on the right you can see . . .

I am rapidly developing a propriatorial attitude towards Barcelona.

With Haydn as a visitor over the last few days I showed off Barcelona with a slightly concerned air of ownership; the sort of approach that one takes when one needs a visitor to like what he sees!

On a regularly running RENFE train (sic.) we made it into the centre and after gazing in appropriate adoration at the Casa Batlló marched down Garcia and promptly had a cup of coffee. This is the correct approach to sightseeing: overwhelming experience followed by refreshment!

A meander down La Rambla looking at a series of frankly disappointing ‘living statues’ - including one poor man dressed in a white sheet with a forlorn looking twisted twig in his hair and clutching a flapping piece of pseudo parchment. The fact that he had bare feet and was standing on an orange box gave his portrayal of a classical emperor a rather homely feel!

At some fairly arbitrary point we veered off La Rambla and headed towards what I thought was the Cathedral. After wending our way through a series of narrow and picturesque streets, which elicited coos of admiration from Haydn, we finally made it to a church, which was a basilica and not the one we wanted. As soon as we were inside Haydn gave a rather startling yelp which turned out to be his way of testing the acoustic. The acoustic was good, perhaps as a result of the inside of the basilica being fairly empty – a sparseness later accounted for by the justified conflagration of church property by outraged Republicans against the complicity of fascist clergy with the forces of repression. That last bit was my gloss on the situation, but the burning of much of the interior during the Civil War is fact.

Eventually we made it to the Cathedral after rejecting the wares of the stalls selling frankly substandard figures to populate Haydn’s proposed Belen. I had been relying on the profusion of kitsch to fulfil any expectation and was sadly disappointed.

The Cathedral was pronounced depressing filled as it was with all the aspects of Roman religion which Hadyn found the most revolting – though some of the medieval painted panels we both agreed were splendid.

Lunch was in a restaurant in a little square in the Gothic part of the city and was of reasonable standard though the waiter was obviously less than happy in his job and allowed this attitude to be visible the whole time he ‘served’ us. It was also fairly obvious that Spanish was not even his second language as his hissed insults towards the other waiter (interspersed with fairly vicious punches) were of a language a great deal further to the east.

The traipse to La Pedrera (Casa Milà) http://www.gaudiallgaudi.com/EA009.htm finally put paid to important muscles in tender parts of my anatomy and I began to feel like one of those crippled characters in black and white Westerns who you know is going to do something selflessly brave before dying. Well, my selfless act was not to shriek with horror at the thought of taking in La Sagrada Famillia http://www.gaudiallgaudi.com/EA011%20Escuelas%20S%20Familia.htm before we returned to Castelldefels! This visit is going to be left for his return to the flat.

This respite allowed me to revel in the extraordinary vigour of the building. The exhibition in the attic has been improved, the dressing of the apartment has been extended and the roof remains the unsettlingly exuberant experience it has always been. An excellent way to end the day and only a short walk to the railway station!

The other major trip that we went on was to Montserrat http://www.lodgephoto.com/galleries/spain/montserrat/ – a destination I never tire of visiting.

Our wait to see La Moreneta http://es.wikipedia.org/wiki/Virgen_de_Montserrat was considerably shorter than usual, though our progress was delayed by the family of Indians in front of us who had their photographs taken, individually and together, with every point of interest they passed. Although they reminded one of the worst excesses of typical Japanese tourists they also were the only people I’ve ever seen actually put money into the donations box held by the statue of a boy chorister on the way to the Moreneta!

The revelation of this visit was the museum. I had assumed that this was going to be the usual sort of thing in this environment: sparse pickings of marginally interesting artefacts connected to the monastery. I couldn’t have been further from the truth. I knew that there were one of two interesting paintings in the museum collection, but I was not prepared for the wealth and depth of the collection. I was so impressed that I bought the only catalogue they had – an expense that Haydn covered by a Grant Aid Donation as he left with some spurious explanation of his owning me money for meals! I will have to design a book plate to mark such munificence! He can come again!

All this high culture is just so much window dressing of course because the real reason that I was so delighted about this visit to Monserrat was that I was, at last, able to realise one of my dreams.

I now own a snow globe of the Moreneta! When I first saw the shop in Monserrat and the range of merchandise that was available in all shapes, sizes and tastes, I just knew that I ought to be able to find a snow globe. The fact that I couldn´t embittered me. Obviously the snow globe is a seasonal purchase and I am glad that Haydn's visit was in December!

The meals we had during Haydn’s visit were excellent with the high point probably being the sumptuous array of tapas in the Basque restaurant. Toni is now groaning on the sofa, his tummy not being able to take the richness of the diet we have had over the past few days.

Haydn phoned up when he had reached home after a flight that actually left early and said that in some ways the high spot of his visit was the walk on the beach in the morning of his last day in Castelldefels in the bright sunshine with the sea washing at his feet.

It was a little different when he reached Wales!