My arrival into adulthood seems to have presented itself by the notion of “pre-booking”. This much advertised system that those of us who would normally favour the spontaneous freedom of opportunity and possibility in a bright new city would normally shun, suddenly increases in appeal with the simple words “2 hour wait for tickets”. Even as an eternally queuing Brit, this does not spark anything other than dread, and so, my journey into the realm of planning starts spiralling out of control when, precisely 7 hours before my flight takes off at 9am, some hasty online bookings are made. Needless to say, some sleep should be happening between booking and flight, so the adult tag may not sit quite so well just yet.
Others may choose marriage and babies as their badge of responsibility and place in this world, but this comes as a defining moment for me (possibility of having booked a day when I am not in the city: high). If all goes to plan,
a fuss free, whimsical flurry round Segrada Familia followed by the Gaudi house (with of course enough time in between) awaits me. What can I say? Some are born great, some achieve greatness and some have greatness thrust upon them. I think I know where I stand. Barcelona, I salute you.