So here we are sitting in the sunshine in Barcelona whiling away a few weeks with Alex, Dave and family and between the Bodega and shopping in Barcelona life is very pleasant. It suddenly becomes more hectic on Thursday when two of their friends from the old days in Holland, Joe and Anna arrived with their daughters Dani and Lee but much more importantly with Sam the dog.


Joe and the family are this summer, for business reasons, moving from the UK to Madrid so this is a school fixing, and house viewing trip. Fly out to Madrid, collect Joe’s new car and then drive to Alex’s for a few days and then drive home. Best laid plans and all that .... ... of course Joe’s new car isn’t ready so they are now stuck in Spain with no return flight home.


Two problems become apparent. No airline will book a one way ticket back to the UK for Sam and the cost to hire a car in Madrid and leave it in the UK is 5000euros.


As the problem is discussed you see the horror begin to dawn on Sam’s face as he realises that he seems to be the issue. I think it’s fair to mention at this point that Sam is used to better things, he could of course have been left at home in kennels in the UK but this was never an option for a dog of Sam’s breeding. Not for him a room in some Kennels he is more the Dorchester with waiter service type.


It is also necessary for Sam to be on the trip in case he doesn't approve of either the school or the new house. If he disapproves then alternatives will be needed. Any way the problem is solved by Joe borrowing a car from a colleague to drive back to the UK to get Sam home and then driving back to swap to his own new car. So that’s Barcelona to the UK and then the UK to Madrid and then eventually Madrid back to the UK, as I see it that’s something like a 5000 mile round trip to get Sam home. Everyone thought that was an excellent solution except of course Joe who was doing the driving and Sam who wasn’t sure that the colleague’s car was of the required standard for his return to the UK.


We had a great time meeting up again with Joe, Anna and the kids and we had three days of long alcoholic lunches and walks on the beech naturally with me looking the other way. Evenings were spent sitting with Joe and Dave either in the Bodega or at one of the many beach bars a stones throw from Alex’s house but I am not sure they were as keen as me at looking the other way.



To every one’s relief when it comes time for Joe and Anna to leave Sam walks out to the car, looks around, nods his approval, jumps on the back seat and before all the cases are loaded he is fast asleep on his blanket, presumably dreaming about when the waiter will turn up with his breakfast. An excellent few days.

Well everything is going well over here. I am pleased to let you know that the weather over the bank holiday was much warmer and sunnier here than back home in the UK. Amber’s sling has come off her arm although she is barred from hockey for three weeks. And I am getting fitter by the day having upped my runs along the beach dodging scantily clad young ladies to four times a day. All in the pursuit of health and fitness of course.


And it must be working because today Dave, Alex and Christine have each gone down with a bad dose of colds but me, very healthy. So dodging ladies keeps you fit, proven fact!




Yesterday we built up the courage to go into the centre of Barcelona for the first time since we have been here and even that proves a success this time because we arrive home without the need to visit the police or a hospital. In fact by afternoon we don't know what to do we have never had this long in Barcelona without incurring an insurance claim.


We set of around 9.30am to wait for the bus, much easier than taking the car in although the way the drivers hurl the bus about probably more stressful. I am sure at the end of the day the drivers all sit in a bodega somewhere counting up the number of people they have managed to throw off their feet by sudden breaking or fast cornering; there is probably a daily prize for the winner. Today though has the added advantage of two American tourists getting on the bus at our stop, who after hearing us talking English decide to become our new best friends.


Now for serious readers of this Blog you will know my views on Americans, I have nothing against them really except that they should all remain in America and then we don’t need to listen to them telling us how 'great' and ‘awesome’ every thing is in Louisville. Apart from the Kentucky Derby and Cassius Clay can anyone name anything 'great' or ‘awesome’ about Louisville. As far as I am concerned it’s about as famous as Belgian who at least had Eddie Merckx and The Singing Nun.


We travel on the bus together and we promise to show them where to get off. Alex and Christine both stop me telling them exactly where to get off and the first thing they ask is the whereabouts of the English Theatre as they want to go and watch The Pirates of the Caribbean this afternoon. They are in Barcelona and they want to go to the pictures! What can you say? Americans!


As we move towards the centre of Barcelona we pass amazing buildings and palaces and the beautiful squares of which I have yet to become acquainted but what is it that Mrs Louisville spots first “Kellies Temp Agency” she says “just like the one on our high street, I can speak English I bet I could get a job”. I was stopped from telling them that the local language was Catalan and maybe she could get away with Spanish but what it was that made her think she spoke English was beyond me anyway. Her total English seemed to consist of ‘awesome’, 'great' and ‘Lousiville’.


Having listened to them grumbling about not having had a decent meal over here in two weeks we needed a plan to divest ourselves of our new best friends. Just then the bus pulled into the Place de la Catalunya, the beautiful square at the top of La Ramblas with all the buildings and shops and people that make Barcelona the town that it is. But what does Mrs Louisville immediately spot, KFC.


“Look Chuck” or whatever Mr Louisville was called “It’s KFC, we can get a coffee and come back for our lunch”. With that they are across the road and gone. What can you say, the best tapas bars in the world and they are happy with a KFC. Americans!


We of course set off shopping, well at least Alex and Christine do, I go for a wander before we meet up for lunch two and a half hours later. Christine had managed to do two shops in that time, I was surprised, Alex must have hurried her along. After a long lunch of tapas and beer we catch the bus home.


The good thing is there are no Americans insight and in any case like all good pensioners I sleep the whole way back having to be woken by Alex when we reach our stop. A good day.

As I have always said, exercise and healthy eating is the way forward. So whilst on this trip to Barcelona I have decided that this is the time and place to start my keep fit routine.


So what type of exercise do I need, apart from exercising my right elbow on bottles of sherbet down the Bodega. Well I looked at fitness magazines and read up on fitness routines on the internet and decided on power walking. Running seemed a little hard and a work out in the gym with a lot of lycra dressed people who obviously didn’t need to be in the gym was definitely not for me. So power walking it was to be and if that’s what I was going to do I decided I may as well, in the search of extra fitness, walk on the beach, with the added difficulty that brought.


I started my regime yesterday just after lunch, this appears to be the time the beach is very crowded so adding more difficulty to my routine by me having to walk along the waters edge and dodge round people, mostly young ladies.








I do wonder at times if I should have a word with some of these ladies just to let them know that they have forgotten to dress before they came down to the beach but they don’t seem too be bothered that things that are usually tucked away are out on display.










Maybe they are suffering from the same problem as we retired people who go down the shops in their slippers but if that’s so then they are starting with problems very early in life.


But in the interest of fitness I naturally look the other way and carry on with my power walk.


Now you may think that power walking along a beach of nearly naked ladies is an enjoyable way of keeping fit, even if I am doing my best to look the other way, but let me say here and now that there are definite down sides. What is it that makes an overweight lady who is not in her prime believe that sunbathing in next to nothing is the right thing to do? Obviously, like Christine ‘she had nothing to wear’ before coming to the beach but instead of going shopping like Christine she simply wore nothing at the beach. A solution I bring to Christine’s attention as it is obviously cheaper than the shopping option. As usually she just ignored my comment and went to find her new Kylie Minogue designer swimsuit with matching sarong and wondered across to the private pool in our park, not for her the public beach with the whale impersonators.


But the worst of all is the fifty something year old bloke. He has spent too long at the bodega and now sports a hefty beer-belly. This is his first trip to the beach this year so he is a pasty shade of white. And he is wearing a thong. He is revolting, he should be locked up for appalling exposure instead of sauntering along beach and just in case you are getting confused this is not me.


I am definitely the shorts and T-shirt type on the beach. In fact you could be excused for getting me confused with Brad Pitt. Take a look is it him or is it me ........ Hard to tell







So this is it, whatever the downside I am determined to get fit. I may need to increase my walks to three a day instead of the two I am doing at the moment, and just maybe, this is not the worst way to exercise.

Our plan was to leave home at 9.30am giving us plenty of time to catch our plane to Barcelona. Well we were a little late leaving and coupled with a road work delay of over forty five minutes we finally arrived at the airport just fifteen minutes before the check in desk was due to close. So it was a quick dash to check in then onto passport control, security and straight to the gate for departure. All a bit of a rush but every cloud has a silver lining as they say, at least the rush prevented Christine from joining the queue for the bananas, this time it had to be a sandwich and beer on the plane.


So we arrive at Alex’s house at around 5.45pm and at six o’clock Dave and I are ordering our first bottle down the bodega. It’s good to be back and so far no ones lost anything or injured themselves so no insurance claim, yet.


Tuesday and the sun’s shining, it’s nice and warm and it’s t-shirts and shorts and a walk down the beach, then while away the rest of the day having coffee, sitting on the balcony watching the world go by. It makes Christine and I appreciate what retirement is all about. Still no problems - yet.


Six o’clock and of course Dave and I are off to the bodega to meet Sven and have a few sherbets. Alex and Christine are taking Amber and Joe to hockey training and the plan is to meet up for dinner around 8.30, the night is panning out OK and still no problem. Well, that is until Dave’s mobile rings.


Alex and Christine are back home early, Janet (AKA Wonder Woman) has been called to assess if an hospital visit is needed and I’m listening to one end of the conversation and wondering what Christine has done now. I am just thinking about putting the insurance company on standby when Dave comes off the phone and says “at least it not Christine this time” but the bad news is that Amber has taken a severe blow to her elbow at hockey and has a suspected broken arm.


They are now all on the way to the accident and emergency hospital so there’s nothing else for it but to have another bottle and wait for their return. Two hours later they are back and the good news is that it’s not broken but as best we can understand she has damaged her elbow joint and has a bright blue sling encasing all her arm. She hasn’t to move her arm for three days and then a return visit is required.


So this morning Amber’s up bright and early for school, arm still in the sling, knowing that this will be a talking point amongst all the girls today, I think she is a little disappointed that it’s only a sling and not a pot that every one could write on. But she looks OK and sets off for school with her pain killers.


So there we have it, one day here and already a hospital visit. Is it us, we wonder, are we the jinx, should we stop coming but then later over a drink on the balcony we begin to recall the scrapes Alex and Dave have managed to get themselves into without any help from us.


They have been locked out of their hotels due to bomb scares in Blackpool during the IRA troubles and London for a suspected terror plot. The problem with that one was that Dave was having an asthma attack and his sprays were in the hotel, the ambulance men came to his rescue. Then there was the forest fire on holiday in Spain when they had to be evacuated from their villa. The five days snowed in at Times Square not to mention Dave’s earthquake in LA or the walking sticks that have appeared more than once to help with his sprained ankle. Chemists and hospital have played a part in virtually every holiday they have ever had. So we have decided that it’s not us and whatever we do these things will continue. Mind you I will be happy to complete the rest of this visit without any more hiccoughs.


I pour another drink and study the local street map highlighting the important places, hospital, police station, chemist and doctor making sure I know the way to them all, just in case. It’s good to be back, I wonder what’s next.

If you are keeping up you will know that yesterday was shopping in York. That’s shopping for our upcoming trip to Barcelona to see Alex, Dave and Grandkids. That’s shopping because Christine ‘has nothing to wear’ again, the same as before each of our last numerous trips abroad. That’s shopping on a Thursday with lots of other pensioners and there's the rub.




We decide on the park-and-ride because it’s York Races and the town car parks are bound to be full. As we walk across to the bus stand it seems that every pensioner in the area also had that thought and we join the end of the queue of Togs waiting patiently for the bus. And where is the bus? Parked 20 yards away from the stop with the doors closed while the driver sits on the fence having a cigarette. What’s that all about, why can’t we get on the bus? Some of the guys in front of us don’t seem like they’ll make a long wait.


Eventually the bus pulls up to the stop and the people start getting on, now we have stood in this queue for least five minutes and there are posters all over saying the cost is £2 return so why can’t people have their money ready? Why all the fumbling around to find the handbag then the purse and then counting out the money, everyone knows they have to pay so have the fare ready. It’s only a six minute ride into York town centre and it takes us 10 minutes to get everyone on the bus.


What are we doing here Christine and I are in the wrong place, I am not like this and Christine obviously isn’t being only 51 and getting her pension only due to a clerical error on her birth certificate, she says!


The conversation on the bus is riveting with two pink rinses who have only met ten minutes ago in the queue discussing details of their latest operations with each other and everyone else on the bus. I am beginning to feel very queasy, I don’t do operations.


Why are we here? I don’t feel old enough to be on this bus.




We arrive and the first stop is the M&S coffee shop for a coffee and a bacon roll, life should now get better but there in front of us in the queue is some of the Togs off the bus. How did they get in front, Linford Christie would have struggled to beat me to a bacon sandwich but there they are ordering their coffees and sharing a scone. Maybe they work as a team, one keeps you talking about hospitals and operations while the others get to the front of the queue. These people must be regulars on the park-and-ride, they must do this every week.


We don’t belong here! We are not experienced enough.


It’s soon lunch time and the fish and chips out of the paper whilst sitting in one the picturesque squares is soon rejected by Christine in favour of a very nice Italian restaurant. Christine sits studying her pink Black Book, which is now a way of life, to see how we getting on and after scrutinising many receipts announces that we have saved £47 pounds. My credit card is still red hot from going in and out of shop tills and I have repetitive strain of my index finger from entering my pin number but we have saved £47 pounds. I think about making the point about saving money or spending less but instead just order another glass of wine and listen to the plans for the afternoon. Christine is shopping, no need to spoil her fun.


So later on following afternoon tea and a shared iced finger we head back for the bus.
All that is needed to get on the bus is to show the driver your return ticket from this morning, how can that be so hard? Again nobody looks for the ticket before reaching the driver’s tray only now it’s even harder with numerous carriers and shopping bags to manage and still the next in the queue doesn’t start looking for their ticket until asked for it.


Why are we here? Next time I am parking in a town centre car park and going on a week end when all the pensioners are at home keeping out of the way.


But apart from the park-and-ride and the pressure exerted on the credit cards it’s not been a bad day. Nice lunch, couple of glasses of wine and some new bits and pieces for me along with everything Christine needs to keep her going until the next time we go to Barcelona. Only the packing to go now and then we are off. Can’t wait!