MELBOURNE: FRIENDS REUNITED

It's funny how some people come into your life. Take for instance one of my closest friends Kym. Kym was only meant to be in my life briefly and then vanish like a lot of people do. She was renting a room in our warehouse for a couple of weeks while my housemate was away on holiday. During this time I spilt up with my long term boyfriend who I lived with as he was cheating on me with a girl who lived down the corridor from us. With all the tears, shouting and drama, Kym must of thought she had moved into some sort of Jerry Springer episode. I chucked my boyfriend out as it was the only thing to do. The only problem with this was that between us, we rented a bedroom and an office. I could not afford both on my own. As I had been a complete nutter on the verge of a breakdown (or drunk!) most days since she had lived there, it was a complete surprise when Kym said she would move into the office and make it into a bedroom to cover the rent. She stayed for 8 months and over that time we became good friends, and when she left we continued our friendship and over the years she has become a really good, loyal friend to me. So looking back on it now, I'm really glad my boyfriend cheated on me, because I would of probably never of become friends with Kym and gained a person who was far more important to me in my life. I'm also glad he cheated on me as he was German and listened to bad German rap music, so it meant I didn't have to listen to that anymore as well! 

While I was traveling through South America this year, Kym emailed me to say that she had decided to move back to her homeland of Australia after 8 years in London. She was tired of London life and wanted a new start back home. I was devastated. Not only was it another person from my circle leaving London, but moving to the other side of the world! I was going to miss her so much. Kym was the person I rang when I was feeling down, if things weren't going right or if I was involved with another asshole of a man, and she rang me for the same reasons. Things were always easy and uncomplicated with Kym. She has at times, not had the easiest of lives, but you would never know. She never complains, never feels sorry for herself or never makes a song and dance over things.  She has the ability to laugh off the most horrible of situations. I once asked how she always remained so calm and was able to laugh off these things.

"Because if I don't, I would cry and it's much better to laugh" was her response.

I didn't get to say goodbye to her properly as I was lay up in bed with a chest and throat infection from Hell. Maybe it was a good thing as I would of cried my eyes out in front of her, so instead I cried my eyes out on my own, while high on Day Nurse and antibiotics for my infection! 

I was determined to keep in contact when she left. I sent her emails to ask how her new life in Australia was going, but got no response. I felt gutted. "Was this the way it was going to be now she back in Australia. Would she forget about me now" I thought to myself. A couple of weeks later I received an response email. Kym told me that she was sorry for not replying sooner but she had been in hospital for the last couple of weeks with Pancreatitis and a collapsed lung. She calmly said that it had been quite serious and she had nearly died. Not the start to a new life in Australia she had hoped for. Kym was one of my main reasons for visiting Australia. I missed her and I wanted to check my friend was OK. 

"You have Australian visa?"

I'm panting, out of breath at the check in desk of Narita, Tokyo airport after sprinting across the terminal, scared I was going to miss final check in after missing my train and having to wait another hour for the next one. I make it just in time but then I'm presented with this question.

"No" I reply "British passports don't need a visa for Australia!"

"I think they do" replies the woman politely, behind the desk. 

"I've been to Australia before and I didn't need a visa!" As this was seven years ago I really can't remember if this is true or not but I'm sticking to the story.

"I have to check with immigration" she says I picks up the phone and starts to dial. I'm starting to feel nervous. I spy an Australia couple at the desk next to me.

"I don't need a visa for Australia with a British passport do I?" I turn to ask them.

"Na!" they respond "You will be fine."

A tall, thin, camp Japanese man waltzes over.

"I believe you don't have a visa for Australia?" He asks.

"No. I don't need one!" I say defiantly.

"Well then I can't let you board this flight then!"

"What!" I go white and my mouth drops open. "You mean I can't get on the flight!"

"That's what I just said."

"But I have a British passport. I've been before!" I say in shock.

"I have worked here many years and you have always needed a visa" he responds. I hate this guy! He's smug and has a face I want to punch! I stand for a minute defeated.

"You pay 3000 yen and I can do visa online now for you" he says.

"Really?" My face lights up. This guy is not so bad after all. I wait anxiously as he types away at the computer as time ebbs away. This is cutting it down to the wire. After what felt like forever, he turns to me:

"It's done you can check in. Oh and next time you go to a country I suggest you check the visa situation!" 

No! I take it back! I hate him and his smug face, which I still want to punch! I make it to the gate as they announce the final call, with my nerves shot at.

I wasn't go to stay with Kym first up as she was moving into a new house. I had rented an Air B&B with  my friend Biskey who had come to see me from Sydney. As I said it's funny how people come into your life, well read how I meant Biskey and rest of the Pussy Fags (I did not give them this name before you all start telling me off for the use of this term!) in Colombia click here

Actually you should read it as then you will understand the chaos of what is about to follow as they seem to bring chaos with them. The plan was simple. I had the address of the apartment. I would buzz and he would let me in. Hey presto! That simple! Well you would think but as I have learnt, nothing is that simple with the Pussyfags, especially Biskey. After going through immigration and getting my luggage I arrive at the address at 2am. I buzz. Nothing. I buzz again! Nothing! I keep buzzing. Nothing! Nothing, NOTHING! I decide to ring him but I realise I only have Biskeys English mobile number from when he was in London. I have to turn on my 3G. I leave a message to say I'm outside. Nothing! So it's the early hours of the morning and I'm sat on the street with my bags looking like a homeless person in the middle of Melbourne. It's not even warm! I want to kill Biskey! I've been sat there at least half an hour, when a guy walks over:

"Are you OK there?" he asks.

I explain the situation to him. Luckily he lives in the building and takes pity on me and let's me in. Result. I find the apartment and knock on the door a couple of times.  Nothing. I try the handle. The door opens. Amazing! I walk into a dark and silent and apartment. I call Biskeys name. Nothing. I walk from room to room with no signs of life until I finally I reach the bedroom where I can see a figure asleep in the dark. I call Biskeys name again. I walk closer to the bed and then I have a heart attack. You see Biskey is of Indian origin and is dark. This guy in the bed is definitely white! "SHIT! I've walked into the wrong persons apartment! I'm going to get arrested for trespassing in some one else's place!" I think.

I'm still having a heart attack when the person turns around and looks at me.

"Hello slag! Surprise!"

It's Reuben! One of the Pussyfags, but he's not meant to be here! I throw myself on the bed and give him a huge hug.

"Where the Hell is Biskey?" I ask

"He got drunk and didn't want to wait, so went out!" replies Reuben.

"What! He's such an idiot! Why didn't you wait up and let me in?" I ask Reuben.

"I'm not even meant to be here remember? I'm a surprise! None of my responsibility!" is his response and turns over and goes back to sleep. A typical Pussyfag response: I'm not taking responsibility! I decide to go to sleep and not get angry. Why would I expect anything different from these guys? They are total nightmares. Isn't why I get on with them? Life is never boring with them? 

I've been asleep over an hour when I get woken by a phone call.

"Where are you?" Says the person down the line.

"Biskey! Is that you?" I ask.

"Of course it is! Where are you? I've been waiting for you!" He replies

"No you haven't! Where the Hell have you been?" I'm angry and tired after being woken from sleep.

"Yes I have! I've been waiting for you at the casino!" 

"Why the Hell are you waiting for me at a casino?"

"Because that's where I am!" He retorts

"Your an idiot and I'm going to sleep!" And I hang up.

An hour later I'm woken from sleep again. This time it's Biskey in person shaking me! He smells of alcohol. 

"Hey how are you? I was waiting for you?" He says drunkenly

"No you weren't! You were at a casino?"

"I know! I was waiting for you in the casino!"

"Your drunk!"

"No I'm not!"

"I can smell it on your breath!"

"I won $10,000 at the casino!"

"Yeah right! I'm going back to sleep! Nite!" And turn over.

I hear Biskey stumble to the kitchen to fix himself another drink and try to fall asleep while he plays music too loud in the living room. "Well a least they weren't a disappointment on the chaos element" I think to myself as I fall to sleep.

I will give Biskey his dues. No matter how drunk or little sleep he gets he always gets up to battle the next day. He just needs a pair of dark shades and a strong coffee to hot wire him. By the way he didn't win $10,000 at the casino. More like $800! The boys decide as its my first day in Australia they want to take me to the best breakfast place in Melbourne. The problem with this is, they can't decide on a good place. We walk the streets of Melbourne for over an hour to the point that everywhere has shut for breakfast! We miss breakfast! Typical! So I end up having the best lunch in Melbourne. It's not long after midday that the boys decide we should have the first bottle of wine. "Well we should" I think "to celebrate our reunion!" After the lunch (which was bloody amazing!) they take me to a roof top bar that looks like some picture postcard house of white picket fencing and pink upholstered chairs. The sun is shining, the sky is blue, my Dad is on the mend, I'm not on the street looking like a homeless person, I haven't been arrested for trespassing in someone's flat and the boys have just ordered a bottle of Bolllinger! Life is good! I'm full of the joys of spring! Life is very good! We get slowly drunk. We are served at the table by young pretty girls dressed in the shortest of tennis skirts, that if they bend over too much you will see right up them. The boys are in their element. They refer to the girls as number1,2, and 3 and compare who is the best. I think they forget at times I have tits and a vagina because they treat me like I'm one of the boys. The thing is I do have tits and a vagina and I'm really proud of my tits and vagina!

"Will you stop talking about women as if they are objects! We are not objects! We are people!" I berate them.

"We know you have tits and a vagina, but you should be happy that we treat you like one of the boys. Number 2 is nice but I don't really like the underwear she is wearing" Reuben continues to Biskey totally ignoring me.

Assholes! 

I arrange to meet Kym later that evening. I'm so excited to see her. I tell the boys they can't come. The reasons for this is are:

1. Reuben has already asked if Kym is fit. He can hit on the whole of Australia but he ain't going anywhere near my friends.

2. I don't want to be having a deep and meaningful conversation with Kym while in the background all I can hear is them two going on about the merits of the waitresses underwear. 

3. I need to get away from the walking bags of testerone for a bit. I tell them they can meet us for dinner later.

On the way to meet Kym at Flinders street station I realise I'm quite drunk. I have been drinking since midday though and trying to be one of "The Boys!" Kym is already there waiting for me at station. She looks really well. Radiant in fact. Not like someone who has nearly died. I'm so happy to see her well. We walk and talk. It feels like I just saw her yesterday. It doesn't feel like we are the other side of the world. We go to a bar down the lanes and catch up. Kym tells me she has been asked to do a PHD. Back in London Kym was a lawyer for Hackney council. She decided she want to do something different. So she decided to study for a masters in Human Rights and journalism, while still working full time. Kym is extremely intelligent, probably one of the most intelligent people I know, but what I like about her is she can be as ditzy as Hell sometimes too. She passed her masters with a distinction and her dissertation picked up the highest mark in her year. It's this dissertation that an Australian university has picked up on and want her to write a PHD on for 3 years. She tells me that she is waiting to hear if she has been successful in her application for the funding it will take, for the 3 years of research and writing she has to do. I can tell she has pinned all her hopes on this and doesn't quite know what she will do if the application fails. I tell her it will be fine. 

After meeting the boys later on an over crowded roof top bar we decide to go for dumplings in China town. It's cheap and cheerful as you have to bring your own booze. We get sat down in a massive room full of drunken people at a long table crammed with others. It's like some bad medieval banqueting hall. We are sat next to a group of girls when Biskey spies one and does his usual trick and turns to us all and says:

"I'm in love!"

"Your not in love!" I hiss at him "You have only just seen her and you have never spoken to her!"

Biskey ignores me.

By the time the food arrives I realise I'm completely wasted. I look around. Biskey is still staring at the girl like some love sick puppy or stalker (it depends on which way you look at it) and Rueben is looking at some girl in a short skirt that has just walked in. 

"Are they always like this?" Kym asks.

"Yes!" I reply drunkenly

Kym makes the wise decision to depart after dinner (I really don't know why as we are such pleasant company?). It would of been a wise decision for me too by then, but I'm not very good at wise decisions, so instead I down what is left of my bottle of processco in the street and start talking crap to some fellow Brits I find outside a bar. After that things become a little hazy. I remember the boys dragging me to some bar and then them arguing with the bouncer to let me in as he's refused me entry as I'm too drunk. He relents and I'm whisked in and sat down in a corner, while Biskey plonks down a pint glass of water in front of me and tells me to drink it. It's going to take more than a pint of water to sober me up and Biskey realises this

"I'm taking you home" he says. I know I'm in a real bad way as Biskey is the most irresponsible person I know and even he's looking after me! He drags me back to the apartment and dumps me on the bed and goes back out partying (as I said: not responsible)!

I awake the next morning to the hangover from Hell! I wander to the living room to find Biskey passed out on the sofa and Reuben on the floor with some blonde spooning him. They are surrounded by empty bottles and cigarette ends. I decide to have a shower and freshen myself up, while trying my hardest not to throw up on myself in the shower. "I'm getting too old for all of this!" I think to myself in the process.

When I return to the living room the boys are back in the land of the living, the blonde has gone and there raring to go again! "Right lets get back on it!" They beam. I just want to die.

Melbourne is known for its food and the boys take me to one of the best where we eat like kings. They order wine and I'm looking at the glass like its the enemy. 

"Come on. Hair of the dog Carly! It will make you feel much better!"

Funnily enough it does and a bottle later I'm feeling brilliant, and by the time Kym comes to meet later in a bar I'm well....... Drunk again! 

I decide to head to a BBQ of one of Kyms friends and have some time out from the boys. It was perfect weather for it. Melbourne has very changeable weather: worst than Britain if that's possible? One minute it can raining with gales the next it can be 33 degrees and so hot you can't think. It must of been that hot, as I wasn't thinking properly (or was it the fact I was drunk again?) as I rang the boys and decided to join them again instead of going home after the BBQ. They were at one of their friends houses in the suburbs, having a party so I drunkenly got a taxi to the address. The taxi dumps me at the end of a cul-de-sac and I look blurry eyed for the house numbers. I decide the house at the end is the one I want and stagger up the drive and to the porch. "It's very quiet for a party" I think to yourself. The door is open so I just drunkenly stroll in to find an old couple sat watching TV. They turn around in shock when they see me!

"Arnold? Reuben?" I blurt out in panic

They stare back at me blankly.

"This isn't number 34 is it? I'm in the wrong house aren't I?" I say pleadingly

"Yes Doll! It's next door!" Says the old man. 

Shit! I run out the house as quick as possible. "Why the Hell does this keep happening to me?" I think to myself. I don't tell the boys about this incident or I'd never hear the end of it. 

After too many drinks again I find myself collapsed in bed again before midnight (I really am getting too old for it!) and once again awake, to find the boys heaped on the sofas in some drunken state. Luckily they have to catch a flight back to Sydney (which in their state I'm not sure how they managed?), which means my liver and sanity can have a rest, until I see them in Sydney. I clear the carnage and the odour of stale booze left by them and collapse on the sofa. I don't drink that day. The boys have left me broken once again! 

The next day I go to stay with Kym at her place in the suburb of Northcote. She'd only moved in the day before as being ill and in hospital has set her back a bit (nearly dying can do that)! She has moved in with an old childhood friend Bryony who is an artist and her boyfriend Gregory who a scientist. There are two other housemates as well: one who is a teacher who plays the guitar and doesn't shave her arm pits and the other is a lesbian writer who also doesn't shave her armpits either. The house is big, but saying that there isn't much room due to the fact that ever square inch seems to be cluttered with anything and everything. No one seems too keen on cleaning either, but everyone is very big on communal living and sharing, so when dinner time arrives everyone chips in with cooking the food which usually consists of something vegan with kale in it. This is followed by after meal discussions about science, politics and green issues  which leave me feeling kind of stupid and not well read enough. Its how I'd  envisage a 1970s commune in San Francisco to be, only that we are not wearing flares or flowers in our hair; though I wished we were as that would be cool. I also wished I was wearing a crochet waistcoat as well because that would be even cooler. 

The days in Melbourne pass a lot calmer than how they started. Me and Kym go to museums, I eat well (lots of kale)  and my liver becomes normal again.

Before I leave I go to see Ann. Ann is one of my mums friends who she use to work with back in England. Ann has been over the years one of the most encouraging people to me about my travels and my writing. There is a reason for this. Years ago Ann lost her daughter in car accident in Australia when she was back packing. It was all very sad and tragic. I think Ann likes to see my travels as I guess it's probably what her daughter might of done if she was still alive. Ann ended up marrying an Australian and moving over here a couple of years later. 

I meet her at the train station and we go for dinner. Ann is all smiles, with a soft nature. She still has a strong northern accent without a hint of a Aussie twang. She tells me about her life here. She has been helping as a volunteer for road trauma victims and their families. She tells me she finds it hard here sometimes. Even though we speak the same language and Australia is quite similar in some ways to England, you have to remember it is still completely the other side of the world from us. I understand why it would be hard. That said you cannot focus on the negatives of situations in life and I tell her this. She must focus on what she has got here: a good partner; a beautiful city and the blue sunny skies. I would love to live in a country where the sky was blue most days. For me alone that would be worth it. We go and sit by the river and I make Ann have a glass of wine, because as I tell her "everything is better with a glass of wine!" We sit and talk as the sun smiles down on us and while I'm sat there with Ann talking about my travels, with my glass of wine, blue skies and not a care in the world it occurred to me that I should practice what I preach and think about all the good things in my life and not the negative. I realised at that moment I was a very lucky person indeed. 

Next stop Sydney! 

KERALA: NAKED HEAT

I like being naked! There I have said it! I LIKE BEING NAKED! There said it again! It is something that has crept up on me over the years. It started when I was a teenager and finally got a room of my own after sharing with my sister for years. I would wander around freely without a care in the world, doing small tasks. It has continued like this since. I rarely shut the curtains, in fact I didn't even have curtains for 5 years in Hackney Wick. Sometimes when I knew no was home and very unlikely to come back I would wander to the fridge or bathroom naked, being mindful to duck incase anyone would past the communal balcony window. I found it very liberating. I never got caught and I never told anyone. It's funny as I get older how much more at ease with my body I am, even though things aren't as firm as they were and lines appear from nowhere. I believe it's a good trait to have. Everyone should be happy naked.

Getting naked was a thing I couldn't stop thinking about recently much to the horror of Lauren. Too be fair it's been through out the whole of India that I have been parading around naked in front of her, even up north when it was cold. Lauren is the total opposite. She gets changed under a towel like some Victorian lady, even when no one is in the room! Kerala though, is where it became worse. It was way too hot for clothes. As soon as I got through the door to our room I would strip off completely. I would take cold showers but as soon as she had dried off you were hot again. Being naked was the only option. I'd unpack naked; I'd read naked; I'd sleep naked; and just to piss Lauren off, I'd do some star jumps and lunges naked as well! This totally freaked her out as she started shouting, "Your my boss. How can I ever take you seriously again. Put some clothes on you crazy hippy!"
For me it was a revelation: she had actually taken me seriously had some point in our working lives. Well that's a first!

During our time in Kerala, we decided to stay in Fort Cochin. I've stayed there before and it's about as chilled and as civil as India gets. In Cochin the main source of accommodation is home stays, where you live in an Indian family's house with them. Me and my friend Becky had stayed in one on our last visit. They use to wheel the deaf and blind granny out on the porch all day; the son would perve at us from a far and the dad ripped us off so I slammed the taxi door on him when we left. So all in all not very successful? I told myself that this time would be better. We arrived at our home stay to find the mother who didn't really speak any English and who ushered us to our room. From what I could figure she's said that her daughter was busy and would see us soon. A couple of hours later I pretty young India girl knocks on our door. It's the daughter.
"I'm sooooooooo sorry, I was not here to greet you ja. My father was very angry. He find that he has a big tax bill and there is no money in the bank account. He blame me everything. He scream and shout. Say I'm bad, stupid daughter and I cry. My father very scary man"
"Oh! That's OK!" I say, trying to take on board this influx of personal information.
I feel like we have just walked into India's version of the Jeremy Kyle show! Great!

The next day we decide to book the obligatory boat trip and get onwards tickets to Goa. We decide to try and book through our home stay as I've had enough of Indian ticket halls, with standing in the wrong queue and then being told I've put the wrong train number on the bloody form. We find the daughter.
"Come" she says "You must speak with my father." She leads us into the living room, where I am presented with India's version of Jabba the hut! The father lets just say is a big man. No in fact he's huge, and just sat there on the sofa in a pair of tight polyester slacks, in a silk shirt which is unbuttoned to the waist so that we can see everything! On his fat fingers he wears too many gold rings. We sit down and I start to speak. The father continues to munch away on nuts. During the conversation I address the daughter about another nights stay. She quickly motions me to address her father about such matters. She is clearly petrified of the man and no wonder. Apart from being huge he's a big bully as well. I ask about train tickets.
"It's a long hot journey, so we want 1st, 2nd or third class at a push I tell him."
It's also Lauren's birthday that day, so I want to make the journey as nice as possible. I hand him 3000 rupees which is more than enough.
The next day I go to ask about the train tickets, but the father is not around. The daughter tells me it will be fine. The day after that, I go to find him again, but I'm told he is asleep and must not be disturbed. It's the day of travel and we still have no tickets! I'm angry and I grab Lauren and am determined to get some answers. I knock on the living room to find Jabba just in his lungi (an Indian sarong)! I think it's too early in the morning for this sight but press on anyway. The father is all smiles.
"Yes my daughter said you ask and worry about tickets, but no worry. I have for you."
He passes me the tickets. I look at them. They are sleeper class! The worst class of all!
"They more expensive because I have to charge commission" he smiles, "So they 2,600 rupees."
"Expensive! Expensive!" I think "God dam rip off more like! and for shit class. What a bastard!"
"So you owe me 600 rupees" he continues.
"No we don't we gave you 3000" I say.
"No madam you gave me 2000."
"No we definitely gave you 3000" and then that's when I see it. His face changes the smile has gone and is replaced by evil anger.
"Are you calling me a liar Madam! And in my own house!"
I'm scared now but remain clam.
"No Sir. I'm not calling you a liar. I'm just saying your mistaken."
"You gave me 2000, and that is the end."
Now those of you that know me well, know I'm not one to back down and I'd normally press the point, but I'm thinking, this guy could probably kill me with one flick of his fat wrist. I sat there with the image of my gravestone going through my head:
"Here lies Carly Griffith, sadly crushed to death by Jabba the Hut!"
"Yes maybe I am mistaken" I reply.
He claps his hands together and smiles "Good! We are all settled then!" He waves off to the door.
"You must come and stay again" he beams.
"Yes we will" I say through gritted teeth, but what is really going on in my head is this:
"You fat Jabba the hut Bastard! You rot in Hell! You will pay for this. The next time you see Carly Griffith, you will wish you have never been born! Ha Ha Ha Ha HA!!!!"
I am quite aware that I will never see this man again, but at the time these thoughts gave me some hope in life.

So it's Lauren's birthday. I had promised her some exotic beach, with cocktails or some magical hotel in some ancient city. In reality we are sat in a rust bucket train in the worst class possible, with no air con, in 40 degree heat, on wooden benches; about to start a 16 hour journey all because of Jabba! Lauren looks fed up.
"What a great birthday this is" she moans. I'm feeling guilty, so I do my best to make things better.
"It's not that bad" I say "Things could be worse." I pause at this moment as I can't think of anything worse. Lauren looks unimpressed and returns to reading her book. I decide to do the same as its too hot to talk.

About hour into the journey and sweating my arse off, I'm lay on our bench when I look around from my book to find an Indian woman sat right next to my head. I sit up straight away and I'm confused by her close proximity due to the emptiness of the train. Within a minute she is joined by another woman and then another. Within five minutes our benches are taken up by a load of Indian women. Me and Lauren look at each other.
"What the Hell!"
The next thing three young Indian girls run up and squash themselves next to Lauren and me.
"What is your names?
"What country?"
The oldest girl continues.
"This is my family, they want to meet you. They speak no English so I will translate. We are just back from my sisters wedding. Meet the family."
The next thing I know we are introduced to aunties, cousins, sisters, wives. Then the men arrive and it's all uncles, husbands, my mothers, brothers, sisters husband! Now I don't know what the world record is for the amount of people you can fit in a train compartment but I think we must have been close. Lauren looks totally in shock. I know what to do;
"Hey everyone it's my friends birthday today."
This is meet with cheers of excitement. Lauren throws me a look like she might kill me.
The next thing the whole family start singing Happy Birthday and the rest of the train carriage join in. Lauren goes red. The girl looks excited.
"It's your birthday. You must have a present!"
"Oh! No it's fine. You don't have to give me a present" says Lauren, but before she has finished, the girl is pulling a box from out her bag. She opens it and it is full of jewellery.
"I give you earrings. Yes! Earrings" she says.
"No I real can't!" Says Lauren looking extremely uncomfortable, but the girl and her whole family are having none of it.
"You must wear earrings!"
"No. No. No. I'm fine" says a scared Lauren.
"You must Lauren" I laugh as I'm the whole situation entirely amusing.
So there on a train, with 20 pair of eyes staring at her, Lauren Kilcar received the most interesting birthday gift ever, which included the repiercing of ears by a 15 year old Indian girl. Lauren smiled her way through the pain.
"Now you must have earrings too!"
Shit!!!! And before I could say anything I'm having my ears pushed through with the kind of cheap metal that erodes your skin (which it did)! I'm was sat there thinking I was being punished for laughing at Lauren's misfortune. Lesson learnt: Do not laugh at others misfortune! It will only come back and bite you on the ass!

We spent the next God knows how many hours being fed Indian snacks, chicken biryani, chai tea and being asked ever question about ourselves humanly possible. As exhausting as it was, I felt a tinge of sadness when our Indian family (all a 100 of them?) finally departed. I know it's sounds corny but these people who have nothing in comparison to us, give everything they can to us, including kindness to complete strangers. I thought the world would be a better place with more people like them.

Our train rolled into Margo, Goa at 3am. We were exhausted; we smelt; and we were filthy. I turned to Lauren.
"Well Lauren, no matter what you think about today. There is one thing for sure: You are never going to have a birthday like that one again!"
Next stop Goa.

NEW YEAR: HOT TUBS; CHAMPAGNE; CHILDREN; AND CHIHUAHUA'S

I don't get asked to baby sit a lot. That's because I'm not very good at it. I once fell asleep before the kids I was meant to be looking after. The parents came home to find me passed out on the sofa, while the kids were running riot, when they should of been in bed hours before. Another time I decided to take my wards to the video shop to keep them entertained. For an easy life I said they could watch anything they wanted. It didn't go down too well that they chose and I let them watch "Freddy got Fingered!" Before you start it's not a Porno but was an 18 certificate and as I was told not an appropriate film for children to watch. I explained it was good for kids to learn things early in life. I myself had seen "Basic Instinct" at a very young age. Well actually this was only because I'd told my mum that it was a mystery, love story, which it sort of is? I just forgot to mention it was a mystery, love story with a nymphomaniac serial killer woman, who didn't like wearing knickers.

My family had a slight problem this New Year. My sister was flying and mum and Paul had booked to go to a hotel. There was no one to look after the most beloved member of our family: Coco the chihuahua! Well there was one person? ME!

OK so I'm a rubbish baby sitter with kids, but I was sure I'd be better with animals. I'm good with animals. To be fair I often prefer animals to people. They are loyal and don't give you any hassle. As I was going to Sherwood Forest to a log cabin for New Year with it all my friends, I thought it would be perfect for a dog, so I volunteered myself. After all how hard could it be to look after a dog?

I should of got worried when my sister started packing the dogs stuff. Coco the chihuahua is like a child to my sister and it is completely spoilt! I just want to state that I had one bag of belongings; the dog has two, complete with different outfits (Coco has her own wardrobe where her clothes are hung on hangers) and a selection of cuddly toys! I'm also bombarded with a list of how to treat the dog and what not to do! They also threaten that nothing better happen to the dog or my life won't be worth living! I'm sat in the car, ready to start my journey looking at the chihuahua dressed in a jumper sat in her own basket, placed on the passenger seat (for her own comfort!) thinking OMG, what the hell have I let myself in for?

I lied! I actually had more than one bag! I had two whole bags full of alcohol as well! Though I shouldn't of bothered as the guys have already filled the bath full of champagne (My heaven)! The log cabin is a mass of energy; greeting friends I haven't seen in a long time; people drinking; people cooking and Stan, my friend Claire's son running around with my hat (which is way to big for him) falling over his face. I sit back and relax with a drink. Everything is just perfect! Well that's until I try to move anywhere. The dog is following me around everywhere. It becomes like some weird furry stalker. I can't even go the toilet without her following me and jumping up on my lap mid pee! Throughout dinner she cried and begs to be picked up, which I have to do in the end and cradle her like a baby. OMG! I'm not looking after a dog! I'm looking after a baby! It's like baby sitting all over again.

The log cabin has a hot tub! Yeah! I'm determined to see the New Year in, in the hot tub with a glass of Champagne. You can't get much better than that! There's one problem though. It's not working properly as there has been a power cut, so it's kinda not very hot. Still we brave it for a while. There is also a second problem. The DOG! AGAIN! It keeps standing a the side of the hot tub crying in the cold wanting me to pick her up. I cut my losses leave the tub and celebrate midnight hugging everyone in a bikini with a chihuahua attached my arm of course.

I would like to say I think I have grown up from my baby sitting days and even though I got totally wasted and actually didn't go to bed all night I was still a responsible mother; feeding the dog; giving her toilet breaks and even taking her for a walk at 7am very drunk and wearing my onsie. How responsible am I?

The dog continues to follow me everywhere, which is now worse as I have a hangover and haven't slept in 24 hours. I put my foot down when she actually tries to get in the shower with me!
When we had all recovered from New Year we decided to go on a big walk to Sherwood Forest to see Robin Hoods Oak tree (which turned out not to be his oak but like one he used, which was shit)! I dress Coco in one of her many coats. As she going for a number 2, I realise I haven't brought any poo bags! I rush her before other people come a long and see I haven't cleared the mess. As we are walking, I realise that the dog has shit all over its ass. OMG! I am going to have to clear it up. You have to understand this is the worst thing anyone could do to me. I have never even changed a babies nappy as I can't stand anything like that. I think I'm going to cry. Luckily Alex had wet wipes for Lyra (thank God for mums)! Everyone takes great amusement as I grimace a lot performing the task. Im thinking at this moment, a babies nappy would be better! Oli starts taking photos as he knows this will wind me up more and he lives to wind me up. I'm almost tempted to throw a shit stained wet wipe at him. I did it though, I did it. I dealt with shit; literally!
That night I return Coco the chihuahua home in one piece.
"I hope she's been looking after you" my sister says to Coco.
Looking after her! Looking after her! You don't know what I've been through the last couple of days, I think to myself. Dogs are such hard work. I think I'll take baby sitting over dog sitting any day in future!

BABIES THAT LUNCH

Every woman knows the importance of lunch date with her fellow females. It's where we put the world to rights; we comment on how well the other looks; discuss the failings of men; catch up with the latest gossip and maybe wear a new item of clothing that we pretend not to care about, but really we just want to show off. Yes ladies that lunch is very important. I feel if the leaders of the world, made all of those important decisions for humanity in the lady lunch manner, the world would be a lot happier place and they would probably be a lot wiser on what is a good skin care routine to have too!

I meet up with my friends Alex and Kym the other week. We have met up like this many times before, but this time it was different. This time we had a BABY!

It only seems like yesterday, that we were in Mexico last New Year, when I got out of the shower to find Alex also naked on the toilet (this wasn't a surprise, Alex gets naked a lot; she hasn't got a problem with nudity)!
"I'm late"! She informed me.
"Your late! But your never late! God! Imagine if your pregnant!" I replied.
It turns out she was and now nearly a year later, here we are with 4 month old Lyra.

I have come to realise over the years Alex is one of my closet friends, which is funny because when I first met her, I couldn't stand her. I even think I might have described as a rude bitch after our first meeting? Though to be fair I think maybe the feeling was mutual, but as time went on and with our years of living together we came to know each other and find our friendship, which usually consisted of her acting like a Jewish mother, me rolling my eyes a lot and telling her to calm down. It worked though our strange ways of friendship. Apart from when she used to ask me to take the recycling bin! That was never good for our friendship. Bloody hated that bin! Don't miss it at all! God dam bin! I hope it burns in Hell! Hell I tell you! Hell!
As I said the recycling bin was never good for our friendship.

It had been a year of great change for both of us and even our friendship. When I first left Hackney Wick I felt our relationship was strained. I was sad and angry about a lot things and I was finding it hard to give up the flat. Alex who was the ultimate party girl was coming to terms with the fact she was going to be a mother and her life would change for ever. It was not a good combo. We clashed and had some blazing rows. As fiery as I am, I hate arguing with anyone, and especially people I care about. I distanced myself for a while as to sort out my own unhappiness, but now that seems along ago memory. I'm happy now and Alex is too. She has the beautiful Lyra and she is a great mother. This mass of energy that she has always had now has this amazing focus: Lyra.

Alex will always be Alex, I saw this at lunch: bossing the waiter around; making loud comments about people staring at her breast feeding; and shocking the hell out of the manager by trying to change the baby's nappy in the middle of the restaurant! Buts that what I have always liked about her. She doesn't give a shit. She now just doesn't give a shit and has a baby too.

A couple of days later, we met to take Lyra on her first cinema outing, to see the Hobbit 3D at the baby showing (Yes they do parent and baby showings, can you believe it)? Alex who had invited me seemed genuinely shocked that I had turned up. To be fair so was I! Going to the cinema with 30 screaming babies is my worst nightmare isn't it? Well actually it isn't, because during the ladies lunch I realised I really liked hanging out with Alex and Lyra. We didn't get wasted, we didn't pull guys and we didn't roll in, in the early hours of the morning, but it was one of the best days I'd had out in ages. I guess we are getting older, but with that comes a calmness. Yes a calmness and its nice. I feel our friendship has changed, but for the better. Oli and Alex have always been like a london family to me, albeit a crazy one, but now there is a new addition: Lyra. She brings a great new energy to us all, and me and I know Aunty Kym as well, want to see her grow and be part of her life. This is why there will be many more Babies that Lunch days to come and many, many other things too.

CARDIFF: AN UPDATE!

Still in Cardiff; just! Had a bit of altercation with the director over an actors under wear, which when you put it like that seems rather stupid, but to be fair the whole industry I work in, is rather stupid too. Anyway at the time the underwear altercation seemed all quite terrible and I threatened to resign, until Howard calmed me down, and the rest of my department blackmailed me with the fact they would resign too, if I left, and I don't want to add to unemployment in this country. Besides I'm well over the half way point on this job, and I will see it through to the God dam end even if it kills me? I've got the biggest itchy feet at the moment. All I want to do is grab my backpack and go on an adventure. I have to keep telling myself that by the time I finish this job, I will have enough money saved to go travelling for a long time. I'm already planning routes!

So what have I been up to you ask? Well apart from work, there is not a lot to do in Cardiff apart from getting wet, cold or drunk, but I have found things to do, even if they are well, a bit sad to normal people. Hey! It passes the time OK!

We go to Jamie's Italian ALOT! It's become a bit of addiction. It's usually me and Kat (as we have turned into a couple), but we have now started getting the rest of the crew, even our new leading lady involved too. This maybe due to the fact, that if we try and get everyone else so addicted, we don't feel as bad? We are quite bad though, due to the fact the highlight to one of our weeks, was thay we found out that Jamie's had a new menu! Me and Kat headed down there at our first opportunity to try it out! I feel we may have to go to rehab to sort out this addiction!

OK! I have to admit it! Something terrible has happened. Something that I never thought would happen! I brought a ONESIE!!!!!!!!!!!! Look I had my reasons! I'm living in a big old house and I get cold! I also have no love life what's so ever, and I'm living with Kat and Sir Gareth, so me needing any sex appeal has gone right out the window. Basically it's all gone down hill for me, but that's OK because the onesie is not only warm but comfortable! In fact, I love my Onesie and now couldn't be without it! I have now taken to doing catalogue poses by the log fire, and holding a vino. Oh! And just so you know I'm quite good at building the old log fire now as well. Eat your heart out Ray mears! No actually can we make that Bear Grylls as he's much hotter!

As mentioned Sir Gareth is still around. He pops in a couple of nights a week in between his jaunts from London, Nottingham and funnily enough Warrington, which he thinks is "Ghastly"! I told him I was from there. He tried to revert. I told him it's too late, he's already dug his own grave! I like having Gareth around. I find him funny. He tells crazy stories; asks us if we are watching anything on the TV, which we are, but puts News night on anyway; and shows me stains on the carpet, which he thinks are new and asks me do I know anything about them, which I find odd as the carpet is already thread bare with a million holes in it and looks like it hasn't been changed in centuries! I have become so relaxed around Sir Gareth, that the other week I didn't realise I was parading around the house in a T-shirt that said "Best blow in Town" that my friend Debs gave to me from the show Benidorm, that one of the actors wore. I now use it as nightwear. First Tesco rotisserie Chicken and now rude T-shirts! This is no way to behave in front of a lord!

It's actually quite lonely my job. I spend a huge amount of time on my own on the truck while everyone else is on set. Most of the time my only company is Andy my truck driver. Through this Andy has become a good friend and I totally adore him. He is also completely insane, but in the funniest way. Me and the girls agree, that we have never met anyone quite like him. He is a prime candidate for a fly on the wall documentary. It's a bit like looking after a child, being with Andy, though to be fair he does his fair share of looking after me. He also likes to do jobs within the department, so I keep him busy with sewing, cleaning shoes and washing the windows. He calls me Miss whip lash! I tell him to shut up and get on with it or else! In exchange for his service, I have to give Andy advice on life, mostly about women, which doesn't seem to be going too well as he has just left his wife of 17 years and mother of his two children! He also had the date he left her, tattooed on his forearm below the tattoo of the day they married! I said that it was a little bit drastic, what if he got back with her? He says he isn't, it far too expensive to get the tattoo removed!

And finally me and Kat have come up with our bands name, well that is if we ever decide to form a band? I want to be the lead singer and she wants to be a cool drummer like Meg White! Anyway, the band will be called: Nonna and the Mitchell's!
Why, you ask. Well, Kats Nonna, which is Italian for grandmother (Kat is half Italian), has got herself three new cats, but seems to have decided to call three of them Mitchell which might get a little bit confusing. Though I doubt it will now, as the Mitchell's are all probably dead, due to the fact Nonna went to Italy for two weeks and locked them in the house, and just left them food and water out in bowls! Either there dead or she is going to have one big shit stained carpet! I have asked Kat to ask to get an update on the Mitchells but she said she is to scared of the outcome!

THINGS

I met up with my friend John the other week. He was late again, but I didnt find it annoying. I have decided that this maybe a character trait of his. We went to see a band play at Rough trade; he got excited like a kid in a sweet shop; we later drank way too much white wine, discussed anything and everything and my night was finished by me drunkenly waking up my friend, after midnight, who's sofa I was staying on for a couple of days.
I first noticed John some months ago at a gig I went along to with friends called shush were everyone had to keep quiet and reframe from talking. As I find it virtually impossible to keep quiet, this was probably not the best gig for me to go to, as I found myself joking around saying shush a lot, and moaning that most of the bands were so depressing I might top myself. I noticed John because he had one of the best beards ever (love a good beard!) and was extremely stylish. I told myself he looked too cool for school and as I was acting so not cool that night (like most nights for me then!), I should try and keep clear of him.
A couple of weeks later I bumped into him again at a gig at the roundhouse organised by my housemate Linn. This time though I was too drunk to really be afraid of talking to anyone. I spent most of the night talking crazy nonsense to him, but John said he found me funny and was quite happy to listen to me ramble on. I automatically felt I could be completely myself round him, a thing I find hard to do a lot of the time.
John himself I found very interesting. He set up his own record label:Brain love; he has the biggest passion for music I have ever seen in anyone; is obsessed with the Internet and he is in love with Iceland. He also writes a blog!
We did the whole Facebook friend thing that seems to christen most friendships in these modern times. I noticed through my news feed that he wrote a blog. I clicked on the link. As a blogger I am interested in other blogs. Most of the time I find them dull and mundane with no spark to them what's so ever. Johns blog was different. In fact he didn't even call it a blog, but an art work. "Things" the title of this work is one of the most beautiful, trueful and open pieces of writing I have ever read. As an open person myself I have often been criticised for baring all with my writing, but this is who I am. I don't know how to be any other way and actually the more I think about it, I wouldn't want to be any other way either. "Things" was nice to read for me and realise that there are other people in this world who are just as open as you, especially a man, as men find it hard enough to open a door for you these days, never mind their souls.
John was live chatting to me (I think it's his favourite form of communication) when he informed me that a company in Italy are thinking of publishing "Things" into a book format. I told him I would be the first to buy a copy.
I do have one problem with his blog though: I wish I could write as good as this!
Check out Johns blog here:
http://thingsbyjohnrogers.tumblr.com/

BARCELONA: TIME OUT!

This blog has become rather shit recently. I'm hardly posting at all, at the moment. There are a number of reasons for this. They are:

1. I spend 99.9% of my life at this time working! This means I do not have a social life anymore!

2. I have nothing to write about other than work! That's not to say there isn't anything to write about at work. It's just I'm not allowed to say anything about work! We have memos going round all the time not to say anything, even to your parents! My parents don't even watch the programme, they couldn't care less on the storyline unless it was Coronation street or Downton Abbey! It feels a little bit like a dictatorship or a bad episode of Big Brother (well that would be every episode then!) where some one is watching over you all the time. We live in fears of our lives! OK I'm being a bit dramatic now, but you get the picture don't you? Their quite strict!

3. I'm tired 99.9% of the time! And when I say tired I mean tired. It's that
That kind of tired where when you wake up in the morning it's painful! That kind of tired where your not in touch of reality anymore, just some zombie like state. That kind of tired where everything gets on your nerves, including people; even people that you really like. All they have to do is breath and there getting on your nerves!

4. I'm totally run down. This actually makes no sense! I'm living the healthiest life style I've had in years. I'm not really drinking, I'm eating good; not partying much and wait for it! Yes! I've joined a gym! I know me of all people has joined a gym! I'm a bit addicted actually. I go 3-4 times a week! All this said I have felt awful recently. My glands have been up; I have bags under my eyes and a mouth full of ulcers! Maybe I should go back to partying?

Luckily we were given a 2 week break from it all. I went back to London for my first week, after a long absence from the city. I found it tiring and stressful. I have no base anymore in the city and I found myself moving round from sofa to sofa at different friends houses. I didn't like not having a home in London anymore. I just wanted to get away.
Mariel my old housemate from Spain has been saying for years I could go and stay with her in Barcelona, but I had never taken her up on the offer, until now. So I booked myself onto one of those Easy jet flights and found myself in the much needed heat and sunshine of Barcelona.
Mariel lived 30 minutes outside of Barcelona by train next to the sea. She met me at the station and after a catch up drink at the local beach bar where we couldn't stay too long as she had parked her car illegally (this is why she got a lot of parking fines when she lived in London!) we got to her apartment, and to my delight I was to have a room of my own, and no more sofas!

Mariel had arranged for Anna who had also worked with us in Almeria earlier in the year, to come round for dinner that night. Anna is basically hot, (to be fair so is Mariel) and she tottered in, in the smallest pair of hot pants, tanned and beautiful, as ever. There is more to Anna than her looks, as she is warm, caring and cooks some mean food.
It being Spain, meant we were on Latin time and so we didn't start eating until after 10pm. 10 minutes later I can't eat anymore.
"Fuckin hell Tia! You have not eaten a lot" says Mariel.
* N.B Tia is a word used a lot in this post. In Spanish it's means aunty but is now used as slang, in the way we say love or I say love a lot. Tia is usually preceded a lot by "Fuckin hell" or "Bloody Hell" in a thick Spanish accent too, in this post!
Anyway where was I? Oh right Latin eating times. Well as I explained my English body was not use to it, as well as the heat and plus I was wearing a really cute 1950's skirt which felt like it had a 4 inch waist, thus food intake was restricted!
We spent the rest of the night talking and playing music, to the early hours of the morning. I knew then I had made the right decision coming to Barcelona.

I did the whole tourist sightseeing thing the next day, but to be fair I wasn't in the mood for much and my body was far too tired to be a tourist. After that I spent most of my days at the beach or by the pool, reading or listening to music. In the evenings, Mariel would return from work and we would sit and eat on the balcony or the chiringuito (which means Spanish beach bar) as we called it. We would have during these times the most indepth conversations for hours on end. During the conversations I realised that me and Mariel were more similar than I ever thought we were.
"Tia! We are the same tribe me and you."
Mariel is now seeing a Spainsh musician who is famous in Spain. He is handsome, fun, crazy and exciting, but through our conversations I always felt a tinge of sadness, that deep down inside this man would never quite give her what she needed. I saw myself in her, in pursuit of the highs and excitement, but always deep down inside knowing that there would never be a happy ending, as much as I try and convince myself there will be. I'm not stupid but I lie to myself all the time. I looked at Mariel. She is not stupid either, but I saw her lying to herself, just like I do.

Why do we do it to ourselves? Mariel summed it for me.
"The problem Tia is this! We go for Peter pan men!
"Peter Pan men?"
"Yes! Peter Pan men Tia! Men that are children, who don't want any responsibility, or commitment. Men that will never grow up!"
"Why?"
"Because we think and act like a child ourselves. We want to play, but we are not children, we are women in our 30's. We need to think as our adults."
Oh Jesus! I'm a child! I'd never thought of it like that, but the more I did the more it made sense, my behaviour, my decisions. I'm a child, a bloody child, and it's taken another child to tell me that! I went to bed that night, with a different out look on life, through getting to know Mariel better, and knew who I was more.

Through travelling and having foreign boyfriends I have got use to being around people that speak another language from me. I have often been excluded from conversations because of my lack of knowledge of other languages. Most of the time it doesn't bother me, I'm quite laid back and that's just the way it is, but because I have actually started to learn Spanish and love the Latin people and their way of life it bothers me that until I learn the language I will always be an outsider. I felt this especially in Barcelona. My whole time was spent with locals, Spanish speakers, and Mariel's friends, who were always lovely to me and spoke English when they could, but in general I could never truly be part of a conversation. It's frustrating when your such an expressive person like me, and not being able to express yourself. I never felt they really got to see the real me. I turn into this shy little blushing girl when I can't communicate and this is not the real me. I'm made of much more than that. All that said I had a great time, hanging out with Mariel and Anna; from retro dancing to drawing homemade tattoo's on ourselves.

Mariel had to go to her cousins wedding on the Saturday so as you would do with a child, she put me in the hands of Anna to be responsible of me for a night. Anna decided we should go clubbing. Too be fair, even though I class myself as a party girl I don't really do night clubs anymore, but I would never turn down the offer of going to one.

Anna met me at the metro and tossed me a helmet.
"We go to my house."
It was then I saw her scooter and helmet. Jesus! I thought, I'm going to get on a scooter with a tiny girl, who is wearing an even more tiny dress; how is this going to work? Luckily, Anna seemed to be an expert at moving around Barcelona at high speed, with passengers, in a Lycra mini dress on a scooter. After the usual girly thing of food, drinks, music and getting ready at Anna's, we left for the night club at the usual Latin time of 1.30am. We got free entry due to Annas friend, Nico, who we met up with. Anna looked hot to trot in tight jeans and a crop top, where as I felt like the tall gangly friend in the back ground, who no one took really much notice of. Luckily one of Anna's many suitors that night was the barman, which meant we got tons of free shots and in no time, I'm drunk and don't really care that I'm the giraffe of the group. After that the night becomes a little blurry, but as the sun came up and Anna was still chatting to the barman, I had got chatting to a group of Spanish guys who wanted me to go to an after party with them. Anna said no, and the next thing Mariel is being put on the phone to me telling me, I can't go either. Mariel is thinking in her adult and now I'm the child again, but the child that is listening this time. I go home with Anna, but not before she snogs the face of the bar man off, through the car window, while I pretend to make sick noises and put my finger down my throat. The child in me is definately out! We crawl into bed at 8.30am. So Latin!

At 2.00pm I'm woken by Anna.
"Come on Carly! We go thee beach! We meet Mariel. It's your last day. Get out of bed."
I feel like shit, but follow orders, slowly! After another crazy ride on a scooter with Anna, we arrive at the beach to find Mariel layout in all her topless glory full of tales from the wedding. I'm too hungover to follow any Spanish, so let them babble on, not caring what there saying, until there is a gasp and Anna starts ducking down. The barman from the nightclub is straight in front of us. I wonder why she doesn't call him over, but then I realise we are all topless and in bikinis, so it's probably not the best idea. I do tell Anna though, that's she's done well, as he has a body to die for. Anna is pleased with herself, but she isn't too fussed as the barman is plan B. Yes plan B people and I don't mean that stupid singer guy. It's seems that the barman is not the only guy in Annas life. she has another. Mariel informs me she has a plan B too. They tell me, ever girl needs a plan B to fall back on to and that I need a Plan B too. I tell them that a bloody plan A would be nice, before I start thinking of plan B. God! I think I need to take the Spanish girls approach to men.

I spent my last night in Barcelona at Mariel's grandmothers apartment as it was nearer the airport. It was a big sprawling apartment full of catholicism and works of art that looked like they should of been in the Prado. Me Mariel stayed up and ate pizza and had a final late night conversation. I realised I was going to miss my chats with her, as I felt like even though we are from a different country and different cultures, we understand each other entirely. We are the same tribe! As I said goodbye to her that night, I had tears in my eyes. I didn't want to leave. Coming to Barcelona was exactly what I had needed. I felt rested and happy once again, but I had also learnt a lot too, especially about myself.
Mariel said;
"Fuckin hell Tia! You want to live abroad, you come back to Barcelona and live here."
Maybe I will, I thought and that thought hasn't faded from my mind since!