Well, yesterday had all the signs of turning into a really crap day. It was dull, dull, dull when we woke up and there was no point in doing any more walking round Sitges since we'd already done the lot. Postcards took but a little while and then boredom set in. I could feel the waves of anxiety building up, all the work shit from the past three months bubbling away under surface.
So, we went to Barcelona.
And, boy, did we walk. Up the Ramblas, passed the building site that was the Liceu (Barcelona's opera house that was gutted by a backstage fire) and round and round.
We took in the old Cathedral with its theatrical altar suspended over the gaping maw of the crypt, stone stairs rising from the depths, and surrounded by a sheltering glade of pillars. And then a quiet courtyard with palms and geese. And a quieter, older chapel.
On to the Casa Battlo - one of Gaudi's creations. We would have done more but we were foot weary and we still hadn't managed to find the Tourist Information Office.
Back home to sex in the shower. Very refreshing.
Ross and I get on so well. Either he indulges me too much or it's a real partnership and I really do think it's the latter. Sometimes I find him too quiet and he could speak out more. And sometimes he seems curiously detached and lacklustre. But, as he says, I have enough energy for the two of us.
We ate at EL Candil and had our first not wonderful meal of the holiday - not bad, just not wonderful.
As we walked back to the hotel, we could see lightning strobing over the sea. By the time we were back in the room, there was a ferocious thunderstorm banging away over our heads. Well, what can you do in such circumstances. We threw the windows open and made love in the teeth of the storm. Slowly, tenderly and finally with flooding abandon.