I’ve travelled a few kilometres since I last published a blog in the comfort of Hermitage Court Farm.
A week later, here I am blogging from a terrasse in Barcelona, perched above the city and the bay in 35 degrees (at least) but thankfully only five floors from a very large swimming pool and a car-drive from the golden Olympic beaches and apparently clean waters of the Mediterranean. Both of which have been tested already.
I’m the guest here of Lucille (9) and Alix (6) Henrich, and their father, Guy, who is Jean-Baptiste’s cousin …
But I’m doing this backwards. Back to Wight.
In typical Gänzl fashion, I exaggerated. I got out of bed at 5.30am, I delivered Red Fred back to Shanklin at 7.30, I was on the train to Ryde at 7.45, on the FastCat to Portsmouth at 8.45, and on the fast (and very smart South-West Rail) train to Waterloo, London at 9.15. Which meant I reached St Pancras and the Eurostar four hours early. But St Pancras has free wifi, so I sat comfortably waiting until it was time to go… thus, I was at the Gare du Nord twelve hours after quitting the downs, and evidently it could have been much less.
But being exaggerated got me five extra days in Paris, chez Jean-Baptiste, and they have been feted in the fashion you can imagine, including my first visit to tourist-stuffed but fascinating Montmartre, two visits to the Bistrot Sainte-Marthe, a dinner party à la maison with Manu Henrich (the family is half way through relocating back to Paris), and an evening in the 2eme with Samuel and Gilles Bertrand, artists, and Xavier, exuberant Mexican hotelier ..
That was a particular evening for me, for while I was living it up in Paris, Rosy was strutting her stuff at the hippodrome of the village of Rânes, Normandy …
She ran a smashing race, off 25 metres, rattling home at a great rate for a third which would have been a win in another 50 metres. Such excitement! Probably her best run yet…
And then… Barcelona. A strange flight on a very elderly and noisy Spanish airplane, with strange attendants .. but it came and it went on time, and it was cheap, so….
We arrived in the evening, and only yesterday were we struck by the full strength of the Catalan sun. Thus, much of the morning was spent in the huge communal pool of the apartment block, mostly taking orders from Mlle Alix as to where she wanted to be pushed or in which direction the ball should be thrown .. a new experience for me!
Another new experience .. a beach such as one sees on the telly, with gold sand, wide sea, and a hundred bodies per square metre. We sported in the sea in relay (one cannot leave one’s bag unattended), threw more balls over the waves (I shall have muscle in my shoulder before I know where I am!), and at 6pm when the sear was somewhat gone from the sun, retired to the the noisiest beach-café in the hemisphere for a half-litre of local cold beer..
And then to the Caller Gaudi, when we indulged in mountains of tapas (oh! those green chilis!) and Spanish red wine, under the towers of the incredible Sagrada Familia cathedral, until it was time …
Well, Alix and I fell asleep on each other’s shoulders in the car…
Today a wonderfully relaxing sunny day around the pool … I am a tiny bit pink … and, goodness, it’s time to drink and eat again…
And at 10.20pm our Rosy goes out at Amiens to do it all over again, in a field of sixteen! Fingers crossed .. imagine if she could do as well as at Rânes ..
Stop Press Rosy 7th out of 16 and seemingly not that far away. Best, though, she broke her personal time record hugely: a kilometre rate of 1 17.9 against 1.19.6. Report from Jack says, yes, pushed back, finished well, but too late. Tomorrow is another day! And Wendy reports that at last Elena is on the verge of returning to the trials...
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