HOW was your holiday? A surprisingly tricky question.
The asker can probably hear my brain whir as it tries to condense four days in beautiful Barcelona into a bite-sized answer.
And the best it can come up with? ‘Hot’. Which I know is disappointing.
But with temperatures pushing 30C, it’s certainly true.
Perhaps I haven’t been back long enough yet to let it all sink in.
And as a result, feeling as if I was actually melting is the only thing
that links together the cathedrals, the tapas, the art, the football, the parks and the rest.
In short – it was amazing and, in the best way, all a bit of a blur.
The city has been on my ‘to visit’ list for as long as I can remember. Combining arty stuff for me and football for the manfriend made it an irresistible destination – and meant it had a lot to live up to.
But with so much to see, it would have seemed a crime to stop and as a result, the term ‘holiday’ doesn’t quite fit.
In fact, just hours from our flight home, we both turned to each other and said ‘maybe we’ll come for longer next time, and sit down occasionally’.
Day one, which saw us on the go for 21 hours straight – give or take the time difference – served up a highlight I’ll never forget.
We were meant to book for a tour of the stadium, but seeing a Champions League game on the fixtures list soon changed that plan.
That’s how I came to find myself holding aloft my Bognor Rocks scarf at Barcelona’s Nou Camp.
The Nye Camp met the Nou Camp, and instead of pie and chips, we had popcorn and salted sunflower seeds.
But the weather and the sport are not the details that seem to have stuck in people’s minds when I’ve told them about the trip.
When my sister was asked how it went, she replied ‘they serve sausage-filled-croissants!’