Flat Number 3

So just after two years after arriving in sunny Barcelona and I’m on the move again, this time to Flat 3#. Unlike flat number one, which was a complete hole, my previous pad (flat number two, for those not great at maths) will remain fondly remembered in the neuron corridors of the mnemonic section of my grey matter. Sure it also had cockroaches, which strangely only I saw, and never my housemates, and my room was only fractionally bigger than the Burmese prison cell that had been my first habitacion, and it was cold as hell during a surprisingly long winter, and something was always broken… hmmm come to think of it flat two didn’t start great. Casting the memory back I am now recollecting jumping in and out of a stream of water that alternated between boiling hot and ffffreezing cold for a good month before that was fixed. Then the fridge went. Then the second fridge went (have you ever tried to dump two fridge/freezers on the street? It’s a pain I can tell you!). And then the Internet broke. BUT there were plenty of good times too. Starting with lounging around with my two 25 year old German female housemate in hot pants (them not me), working in a light-filled lounge with balcony, popping up onto the rooftop terrace to sunbathe and look out over the whole city, and living in the hip but still unspoiled district of Poble Sec…

Maybe that’s why I chose my new place… it’s just down the road. Apart from meaning the move was relatively painless, it means I’ll still be able to pop for a drink on Carrer Blai, or to Cerveseria Jazz and Maumau Underground. Although not sure I’ll be going for any more runs on Montjuic without a pair of red hotpants to follow around the mountain. Somehow the incentive has gone.

So what’s the new place like? (I know you don’t actually care, but what are blogs for? Making your insignificant life seem important by publishing dreary minutiae from it on the internet in the deluded belief someone is reading it. Right? Well that’s what my blog is for). Since you asked it is pretty kick ass. The door is right off the street (no stairs:) and leads into a dim room that is ripe for conversion into mini home cinema. From there a corridor reveals three bedrooms, all of which have double beds. No more uncomfortable nights perching on the edge of the mattress on the rare occasions when hot chicas follow me round to my place. After that there’s a small lounge, a conservatory (almost) and – wait for it – a garden! A garden in Barcelona. Que raro! Ok it’s mainly a concrete garden but there are a number of small trees, a flowerbed and even a sun lounger. Shamon!

It remains to be seen how well I will get on with my new housemates as they are both away for August. In their place are a heavy metal chick with a hairless cat (creepy but cool) and two lesbians. Importantly all are Spanish, so you never know I might actually finally improve my language skills.