I have now completed a year in Catalonia. It’s my second attempt to stay put here in Girona, the first one being interrupted after eighteen months. I’m now laughing more but still not in all the right places, but it was important for me to find the right place to get stuck in, and with Girona I think I have found it. Incarceration in first London, and then Peterborough was certainly not the answer. Now I am gradually filling the diary with things I actually want to do – seeing Siegfried at the Lyceu in Barcelona on Wednesday and dinner at an excellent restaurant called Viart in Platja d’Aro at the weekend.
Somewhere over the horizon the U.K. still threatens, and I will always be from Bradford, (the formative eighteen years have provided me with a range of burdens and handicaps I am unreasonably proud of,) but apart from the glacial bowl I no longer think any of it really exists.
For the moment my Catalan is just at the right level to not understand when people are complaining, and I’m sure it will stay like that for some time to come. On the other hand I have never been more social and actually feel of some use and value to the community I’m in, and I have finally managed to get ‘Stooge,’ onto my CV as I am the customer in English role plays at the Escola Hosteleria – the restaurant and hotel school here in Girona. ‘Waiter, waiter, there’s a fly in my soup. Don’t shout out everyone will want one.’Follow: