Devilishly quick...

I got this deadly little lighter which is lovely and red, and has a little light on the end which is red and scares the crap out of babies. It´s great. And refillable. And bulb-replaceable. Fantastic. I believe the bauld Dani had to crawl through the city´s red-light district to get it, and nearly got mugged on his way back by a group of Ladies of the Naiiiight.

Speaking of which, the boyfriend was on his way home from Port Olympico there the other day when he was stopped by a young Moroccan who desperately wanted to discuss football at 6am. The bright young lad justly guessed he was about to be pickpocketed and started gesticulating wildly back at the Moroccan. "Ronaldinho, Morientes, Pasportio?"he uttered in his best Spanish (I kid you not). And then "Ronaldinho, Ronaldinho?," as he deftly stuck his fingers into the young Moroccan´s pocket and lifted his wallet. The man was gobsmacked. And his felonious friends wet themselves laughing when they heard. What a friendly place this Barcelona is.

Actually, it´s starting to grow on me a bit finally. I went to a Scottish bar and and Irish bar tonight and got free drinks from both houses. Lovely. Strawberry Daiquiri or however the hell you spell it is a fine drink to have before an all-night-graveyard shift in a city-centre office. One which had just been evacutated after a bomb-threat half an hour earlier. Bee-oot-ifull!

Speaking of lighters and bomb-threats, on the edge of Barcelona there is a fantastic piece of pop-art, in an area called Montbau. It is a giant sculpture of a book of matches, and even has discarded matches littered around it!

Burreh, it turns out the young fella wants to return to Ireland for a month or three. Now, at 6.20 a.m. in the morning after a nightful of rolling about worrying about what the hell I am doing with my life, I don´t trust myself to due the subject justice, because:

a) I´ve no clue what I am up to in general
b) I have an abandonment complex, whilst being scared of having someone too close. Don´t try this at home folks!
c) I´ve had too many strawberry whatchamacallems to be makin´any sense any more.

So I will leave you with an auld proverb I learnt recently:
May you reach heaven half an hour before the devil realises you´re dead
(And after having learnt it off a Spaniard it turns out to be an Irish proverb!!Madness!)