A postcard from Barcelona
An update on what I've been up to from the sunny shores of Catalonia.
Hola chicos. It’s been about three weeks since my last post. The reason for this lack of material is down to two main factors:
A) That I’ve been travelling;
B) That while travelling, and having time to think about writing, I’ve realised how uncomfortable I feel putting virtual pen to virtual paper in the first person. As in, hello, this is ME, listen to ME, I HAVE SOMETHING TO SAY. That kind of thing.
This has inevitably led to some kind of mini-existential crisis as far as the whole writing thing goes. Especially now that I’ve finished publishing my Proust book on here. Other than that, why the hell did I start a Substack if I’m not prepared to talk about myself, in my own voice, to the people that are kind enough to follow me?
All of which is to say, I need to get over myself, stop worrying and learn to love the blog. I mean if you’re not into it, you can just unsubscribe, right? (Please don’t) I was also conscious of the new subscribers that have joined in the last few weeks (Thanks. I promise it’s not all like this).
Now that’s out the way, here’s a quick update on, you know, MY LIFE:
As mentioned above, I finished publishing my book about reading Marcel Proust on here a few weeks ago. Hopefully, you’ve been reading along, but if you haven’t or if you’re new, you can find a chronological list of all 42 chapters here. Being a big Hitchhiker’s Guide fan, I was especially happy with the number of posts it ended up taking. I’m also hoping to create an e-book version, which I will link to from here once it’s finished.
I’ve recently gone freelance, which is new and fairly terrifying territory for me, although so far so good. I’ve even managed to find some work (writing, funnily enough), which is paying me enough to eat and keep a roof over my head, but has meant I’ve had to radically rethink my expensive shoe habit. Goodbye Trickers, hello TK Maxx.
I’ve moved to Barcelona. Not forever, just for a few months. Just to remind myself there is life outside Blighty. Just to make enough people jealous. Just to save on the spiralling costs of my enormous wine habit. Just because I could. And so the rest of this post is gonna be about that…
So, what’s been going on out here? Well, it’s been hot. And it’s very busy. And I’m living on the noisiest street in the history of the world. And I’ve seen a number of pickpocketing incidents. And the food is better. And my legs hurt because I’ve been doing a lot of walking and it’s a big, big city.
They say a picture is worth a thousand words, so here are a few:
Not bad eh? This is part of the old Olympic pool complex, where they did the diving events in 1992, I believe. It’s up in Montjuïc, which is the big hill to the south-west of the city. I can’t imagine there are many pools with better views than that in the world.
This is the local tipple. Vermut. It’s everywhere. And it’s delicious. It’s meant to be drunk in the daytime, which is just fine by me. You even get a free olive. What could be better than that?
This is the local pudding. Crema catalana. It’s basically creme caramel, but for some reason it tastes better. And I love creme caramel. A lot. But this knocks it into a cocked hat.
This is one of the windows in the Sagrada Família. Given its reputation as a tourist trap, I was a bit reluctant to go, but I’m so glad I did. It’s incredible. I don’t think I’ve ever been in a space quite like it. The product of a unique mind; a project that future generations felt inspired to see through. It says a lot about the Spanish, I think, a people who place a great deal of value in ritual, and for whom spirituality is a matter of both metaphysical and material urgency.
This is my Spanish class. Wow, learning another language is tough. I’m literally at primary school level. We sit around reciting the alphabet like when I was five. And when I leave every day, it feels like I’ve done the proverbial ten rounds with Mike Tyson. At least I can now count up to a million in Spanish, which will come in useful once my Proust book cracks the NYT Bestseller list.
This is my telly. I’ve watched a lot of football. The Euros. I use it to practice my listening and my reading (for some reason there are Spanish subtitles, which I haven’t worked out how to turn off). ‘Partido’ means ‘game’. Both ‘balón’ and ‘pelota’ seem to mean ‘ball’. ‘Córner’ means ‘corner’. This was the Germany v Scotland game. I took this photo to send to my friend who’s a Villa fan. For some reason seeing the words ‘Aston Villa’ on the screen in this context amused me.
This is a bit of local graffiti that caught me eye. I couldn’t agree more.
I hope that was of some interest. I am doing some ‘real’ writing while I’m in Spain too. Hopefully, I’ll get it into a shape that can be posted on here.
Until then, adios.
PS: Now that the Proust thing is finished, please do share it with anyone you think might be interested. It’s the biggest single piece of sustained work I’ve ever done, and even though it’s not perfect, I am proud of it, which for me is saying something.
The best link to share is: