Spent the day in a bustling and vibrant Barcelona, went to sleep in the God-forsaken Mottingham… Fun life I lead sometimes!
The big summer holiday took off splendidly, the long two-day trek from London to Costa Brava notwithstanding. We arrived to a beautiful setting, gorgeous weather and, most importantly, the company of friends whom we count among our oldest and closest. The kids on both sides instantly re-established rapport and, more or less, left adults to their own devices, which is something we have been decidedly lacking on recent holidays.
So, our friends and us had plenty of time to catch up, go for local explorations and culinary adventures, or just sit on the beach. Their house on the mountain has sweeping views of the town and the beach below, so we also hang around on their veranda in the evenings. Wine, cheese, a guitar, a pleasant conversation – what else to ask for?
I finally acquired an adequate Mediterranean swimming experience (all of my previous visits to the shores of the Mediterranean Sea happened during less than ideal conditions for a dip).
On the night of our arrival, the town held the annual musical fireworks, which we had the pleasure to observe from the aforementioned veranda.
There is an excellent communal swimming pool right in front of our rented house. Kimmy has gotten into a habit of going for a half-hour swim before retiring for the night.
There are incredibly beautiful and well-preserved medieval villages within a twenty-minutes drive radius from where we stay, full of unexpected treasures and remarkable restaurants. Barcelona is not within a daily driving distance, but still manageably close.
Those are just a few things that make me rue the necessity of flying back to London to go to the office. But here I am, plotting a quick return. Just as soon as I deal with some things that I find hard to deal with remotely…