I made it to Barcelona but my luggage didn’t. Of all the travelling I’ve done in my life – which is a fair amount – this is the first time I’ve ever lost my bags. Today I’m wearing the same outfit I wore yesterday. My bag is expected to appear today so I’m hoping my colleagues can tolerate the smell for a little while longer.
Health and Safety concerns in places like Britain, New Zealand, and Australia are often over the top and needlessly restrictive. Barcelona seems to be refreshingly at the other end of the spectrum. The room I’m staying in has a door (it’s probably a window but it almost reaches the floor) which opens onto air and only has a flimsy strip of metal as a barrier. There’s also this magnificent view –
I’m not scared of heights but the drop is fantastic –
I can’t imagine this would be legal in the UK. I thought it best to keep the window shut overnight in case I go sleep-walking.
My room is also next to the toilet and there’s a very useful frosted glass window between my room and the toilet. It’s high up on the wall so privacy is not a concern but the acoustics when someone pisses are quite astonishing. The first time I heard it I thought I must have an ensuite.
I slept poorly last night. Victor, if you’re reading this, I usually sleep very well so this was a one-off. I had problems with insomnia a couple of years ago but the doctor advised me to avoid tea and coffee after mid-day and that solved the problem. The problem now is that I have this deep, primal feeling that I’m too far away from my children and so I don’t enjoy my time away from them because of this. We all have our own imaginary elastic which defines how far away from our kids we feel comfortable going and mine stops at the border of the country they’re in. As soon as we end up in different countries, I feel uncomfortable. Hopefully the elastic will get longer as they get older, or maybe it won’t and I’ll turn into one of those over-bearing mothers who can’t bear the thought of their children moving away. Only time will tell.