The downside to flu is the little blood vessels around my eyes burst when I vomit.



The upside is having two days to watch all the DVDs I've put off watching. Several French films, including Monsieur N., and Fanfan la tulipe starring the beautiful Vincent Perez. The DVDs are in French, with French subtitles so that I can practice listening. I miss the subtleties to everything, and am lost with anything colloquial, but it's entertaining, and takes my mind off the flu.



So I'm better today, but work is dragging, my back is sore, and I'm dying to take a nap.

Deep thought for the day

I don't know why I think Phil Spencer is the sexiest man on television, I just do.

Opusizing Yesterday a new USB keyboard controller and Garageband CD arrived so I have a small home recording kit and can start making music. I'm no great musician so I'm not hoping for much, except a possible passion to explore. Don't hold your breath, it will be ages before anything of value comes from it.

Pictures from Barcelona. I don't know why my digital camera overexposed everything (but then it was bright and foggy that day.)

Barcelona. I have many reasons for not having been to Spain -- everything from disdain of the heat to promised visits from friends in the US -- but the chance arose to third-wheel Craig and Helen to a 5-star hotel on the cheap so I jumped.



We ate tapas. We drank. First a flat cava, then several bottles of spicy rioja and even a flan-flavoured liqueur. We were bossed around by over made-up waitresses and waiters with booming master-of-the-universe voices. We walked. We cabbed. We climb the escalator-free hill to the Park Guell to see the fantastic spaces Gaudi created and then went to the Segada Familia to see the church he left unfinished -- over 100 years ago.



We did the marina, and the old part of town, and hunted down Mont Blanc with visions of cheap, affordable pens. Then that night, rather than clubbing, we sat in the bar celebrating our adventures.



Barcelona is much more sprawling and urban than I imagined it. It's also an intriguing combination of old and modern. But the men aren't anywhere near as stunning as promised.



I'd go back. Definitely.

I know the site's buggered, but I'm off to Barcelona so not much I can do about it.



Promise it will be fixed soon.

04.02.03 -- Swimming upstream to Spain

Last night, in the South Ken tube station, I saw a man dressed head to toe in salmon. No, not dressed as a salmon -- which could be explained by the science museums nearby -- but in salmon colours. Not just one single shade, like a pantsuit, but in various pieces of clothing different shades of salmon. He wasn't eccentric looking. He looked quite normal. Young. Handsome. Affluent. Not unlike any man you'd expect to see running about in a Barbour jacket or bulking knit sweater in South Kensington. Except that it was head to toe salmon. It might have been a uniform of some sort. He may have been rushing off to a job in a beauty salon. It's just that they appeared to be normal, well-made clothes. In salmon.



I don't know why it's stuck in my brain. And I think it may have been the reason I craved a bagel with smoked salmon this morning.



Off to Barcelona this weekend with Helen and Craig. I've never been. Not even to Spain. I meant to go years ago, but was always waiting for Greg or someone to come along, but the opportunity arose to stay in a 5-star hotel for cheap and I jumped on it. I'm looking forward to a weekend of tapas, and Gaudi, and room service.