I've known Roland for near on 20 years now.
For the past 10 of those years, we've been saying that we should try and get away on a holiday together. Well, it's just happened.
We flew Easyjet to Barcelona and had the bestest of best times together. And may I say that Easyjet were impeccable in their service and the hotel was cheap and quite cheerful. I fully intend to try out other Easyjet destinations like Amsterdam and Nice in the not too distant future.
We took the train into the centre of Barcelona and emerged at Sants-Estació - the main startion - only to find a big poster directing us to the correct platform for the Hogwart's Express. That boy, Harry, gets everywhere.
We stayed at the Hotel California. The hope is that we can check out any time we please
and also leave the building. 
It is situated just off the Ramblas in the Barri Gòtic (Gothic
quarter). There's a gay bar, Padam Padam, opposite the front door and a gay
sex shop just down the alley. The Liceu, Barcelona's opera house, is no more than
10 minutes walk away.
As usual, I slept badly on the first night of a holiday in strange surroundings. This wasn't helped by being in the centre of a partying city.
Whether it was just that or it was lack of food or whatever but I ended up having an emotional morning on the Sunday. I realised that I have been carrying round a lot of baggage in the last 12 months about Ross's eventual move to the North West. The news that he will come early in the New Year to take up a job puts the last piece in the jigsaw. I'm relieved that the move is on his terms. He is moving towards something rather than running away.
Luckily Roland was happy to find out what was going on and to accommodate me. Also, these days, it must be said that I confide and explain.
We spend some time in the Cathedral particularly in the Capella de Santa Llúcia. I gave thanks for all the good things that have happened recently. And we went into the central courtyard where the palms waft in the breeze and the geese live their pampered life. The last time I was here was with Ross in 1997. We had been together just over a year. We were happy. It was shortly before he became ill with the Chronic Fatigue Syndrome which has dogged his life since then.
And we look at the peculiar splendour of the interior of the city hall - a fifteenth century original with Victorian excrescences. After coffee at Café di Roma, I put my head down in the hotel for a couple of hours.
Lunch was taken in the open air in the Plaça Reial at a restaurant called
the Quince Nits - this translates as the 15 Nights or Fortnight. I had Gaspachio
and cod with haricot beans.
Whilst we dined, from the third floor window of a hostel-style hotel for the young, a vision of young male beauty appeared, fresh from the shower, hair tousled, wrapped in a towel. Very, very, wuff. He was shortly joined by his girlfriend at the window's edge. They smoked. They surveyed the scene. They were a palpable image of what it is to be young and to have the world at your feet.
Roland led me up the Ramblas to the Palau de la Virreina, an eighteenth
century stately residence now used as a place of culture. In the courtyard stood a tree
festooned with paper slips each covered with writing.
Roland explained that this was a wish tree. By its base were pens and tags to
write on. He encouraged me to continue with my process of letting go. I wished
for a happy home together. Then I went back to the hotel for more rest.
I variously slept and lounged in the bath listening to a radio performance of
Janacek's Cunning Little Vixen from Opera North - one of the opera's Roland
and I are here to attend - and did some yoga and got my raw and bleeding soul back
into shape.
I emerged feeling better but not wonderful. Roland took me on a walk down the Ramblas, round the waterfront and up into the Barri Gòtic again. We found one of Roland's favourite restaurants, the Cuatro Gats (Four Cats), where Picasso ate as a student.
Roland in a great blaguer. He got us seats in the balcony which must be one of the prime spots. The decor is marvellous, the clientele varied and Bohemian, the food exquisite and our waiter, Jorge, was built like a lithe Rugby player of extreme callipigousness. Why do waiters' black trousers emphasise the curvature of their buttocks? I had some spicy sausage and beans to start, shoulder of lamb as a main course and finished with the local speciality, Crema Catalana. Beer, wine, brandy and coffee were quaffed.
Our meal took close on three hours. We talked as only two long-standing friends of great empathy can talk. Time whizzed past. It was one of the most enjoyable repasts I have had in many a year. My only regret was that Ross was not there to savour the experience with me.
We strolled back to the hotel. I was ready for my bed and looked forward to a good night's sleep. And no doubt I would have slept well have it not been for the noise from the other guests.