Mike's Barcelona Diary

From The Colonel's Website

The build-up

The build up to Barcelona was spent, for me, on a conference in Trento in Northern Italy. I spent a week there during late June, exploring the city and watching England take part in Euro 2004. The culmination of this was the somewhat dramatic quarter-final penalty shoot-out against Portugal which we lost, again.

On the Friday, I left Trento and took the train south to Venice, where I was to meet David. We met at the station. Myself and Shaft exited the train and were greeted by David and the Little Lucky Leprechaun on the platform. The Barcelona experience had begun and for the first time, the experience would begin for us in a country other than England. We headed to the hotel together talking excitedly about both our stay in Venice and the prospects for Barcelona. We spent three days in Venice, in which time we checked out a wide variety of places, discovering that shafting was particularly common-place in Venice. It was, however, much more open about its shafting policy than Genoa. Clearly the great sea-faring powers of middle-ages Italy were still at war over shafting policies. We also partook of some stunning seafood at a fish restaurant in some back street with no menu—the waiter merely came to your table and made up the order.

On the Monday, it was time for us to go home. We headed out to the airport and took the plane back to Stansted. Everything was running smoothly, until we got close to Stansted airport and were informed by the pilot that the airport was closed. We were to be diverted to Luton. My car was in Cambridge at Aisling's house, so I sent her a message from the ground telling her we were going to be somewhat late. There followed a two hour stop on the ground in Luton, during which time an argument broke out when some guys wanted to get off the plane. We eventually took off again and flew for about ten minutes before landing in Stansted. Thoroughly knackered, we picked up our bags and made for the station. Unfortunately we had another hour to wait, as we'd just missed the train to Cambridge. Eventually, we got to Cambridge station and Aisling met us on the platform. Back at her house, we were delighted to sit down to a meal of smoked salmon. It was now approaching midnight and I decided we should get on the road to drive back to David's house. This we did—the drive was exhausting and we made it at about half past two. I had just about enough strength to get out the glashtenmeid before collapsing and going straight to sleep.

Tuesday, 29th June

I woke up at around eleven o'clock in the morning, still absolutely knackered. David soon got up and we sat around watching a feature. At about two, David decided to go into work for a couple of hours. We had decided that we would basically take it easy, so I stayed in and played FIFA 2003 on David's computer until he returned. When he did, we made a quick trip to Tesco's for some supplies before sitting down to watch another feature. We then punched the sack after what was undoubtably the most uneventful day ever during a Colonel's break experience.

Wednesday, 30th June

We got up at around nine in the morning and went for a run down by the canal after a little early morning chilling. Once we'd finished our run (which was somewhat unpleasant) we headed out to Thatcham station to meet Rupert and Chris. We made a quick stop at David's house to drop off their bags and allow David and I to shower before heading back to the station and going off into Reading for the day. I left the car at the station and we got on the train. Chris decided to negotiate for the tickets with the conductor, pointing out that I had a railcard. She said that we could get 4 tickets for 8 quid, on some sort of cheap multiple travellers deal. This would be cheaper for all of us. Chris pointed out that I had a railcard. I told him to shut up as we were all making a profit.

Once in Reading, we made straight for the coffee and muffins place in the Oracle centre, where we partook of coffee, muffins and baguettes. After a somewhat heated debate, we started a little bit of film and clothes shopping. An hour or so later, David was getting a little tired, so I suggested that he and Chris went to Starbucks whilst Rupert and I finished off our shopping. I bought a cool T-shirt and cool shirt and we then headed to Starbucks.

After even more chilling we decided it might be a good idea to have our pre-break meal in Chilis, rather than going back to David's house and then heading out again. This plan was agreed, so we got in and secured a table. After the customary nachos starter, David and I settled down with the chicken crispers whilst Chris had some sort of fajita pita and Rupert had some weird stuff.

As we had an early start in the morning, we decided to head back to punch the sack, so once everyone had finished, we caught a train out of Reading and headed back to David's house. I collapsed on the glashtenmeid again and promptly fell asleep.

Thursday, 1st July

My alarm went off at about one in the morning. I climbed out of bed and went through the shower to wake myself up. After a strong coffee, we were about ready to go. Chris, Rupert and I packed the car whilst David ensured the house was locked up. We began our journey in high spirits. We were all knackered, but the experience was well underway. The sounds of Bon Jovi echoed through the stereo as we headed for the M4.

The journey was uneventful, which was a relief after the huge problems we'd had with Heidelberg the previous winter. The same could not be said for Dave, however. We received a phone call from him whilst we were on the M4, informing us that the night bus he'd been waiting for to take him to the bus station had not showed up, so he was unlikely to make his coach. We were a little worried as we didn't really have time to head into London to pick him up. We phoned Amal to inform him of the problem (thinking he may be able to pick Dave up), but we couldn't get an answer from him. Eventually, when we were some distance down the M25, we received a call from Amal, informing us that he'd made it onto the M25. He was about ten miles ahead of us and he informed us that he was doing sixty miles per hour and hogging the middle lane. He seemed to want us to catch up with him. We informed him of Dave's problem, but by this time there was nothing that any of us could do about it. He phoned again a little later to tell us that he was now on the M11 and was still in the middle lane. He'd now slowed to 55 miles per hour, so eager was he for us to catch up. Just as we reach the Stansted exit, we spot Amal's vehicle ahead of us. We drive in convoy into the medium stay car park and make straight for zone D, as directed. We all got out of the vehicle and greeted Amal. The bus stop was crowded, but we managed to get on the next bus that arrived and we soon found ourselves at the terminal.

Whilst David, Chris and Rupert waited at the check in desk, Amal and I visited Captain Mainwaring as Amal needed to get some currency. Unfortunately Captain Mainwaring didn't appear to be in his usual position, but a couple of girls were on duty (one of whom was being chatted up by a rather dodgy looking bloke) so Amal got his currency off them instead. We returned to the check in desk and soon found ourselves queueing to go through passport control. Once this laborious task had been concluded, we made straight for Garfunkels. It wasn't open, so we chilled for about ten minutes on some handily placed seats until we could secure a table. Amal and I put in an order for toasted sandwiches whilst David and Chris got a breakfast burger each in. Rupert ordered the omelette. Shortly afterwards, Dave turned up. We couldn't believe his luck—we were expecting that he wouldn't make the flight, but were all pleased to see him. We got the waiter over and Dave put in an order for the veggie breakfast, stating that bacon always tasted grim at Garfunkels.

When our food turned up, it became apparent that I was the victim of a shafting. I'd been served with a tomato and cheese sandwich rather than a bacon and cheese one. I was unimpressed, but we didn't have a huge amount of time so I didn't query it. We ate hurriedly and soon left the restaurant. I made a quick pot stop and we all gathered to catch the train to our terminal. At this point, David and I spotted Chris dicking around at a water fountain. We couldn't believe it. Parallels were immediately drawn with his fantastic dicking around at the cash machine in Dublin. As soon as he'd finished, we took the train to the terminal and arrived at our gate to discover a massive queue. Fortunately, owing to us having low boarding numbers, Amal and I were able to perform an operation sack and acquire seats for everyone else.

The flight passed pleasantly, with a somewhat spectacular section over the Pyrennes, and we soon found ourselves landing at Reus airport. It turned out to be an absolute dump. At baggage reclaim, Rupert acquired six bus tickets for Barcelona and we were soon on our way. Our bus was pretty deserted—apparently most of the people arriving at Reus were heading down to the nearby resorts to catch some sun. The bus journey took about an hour and a half. Dave and I passed the time by following our progress on the Lonely Planet map.

Eventually the bus pulled into the main station at Barcelona. Dave and I made a quick purchase of drinks for everyone and we descended to the underground. Unfortunately, dicking around occurred at the ticket machine, as it wouldn't accept any of our credit cards. We resorted to cash, which seemed to work.

Boarding the train at Sants Estacio, we took the blue line to Verdaguer, before changing to the yellow line (which involved a massive underground trek!). On the platform, we all noticed that there was a clock which counted down, to the exact second, to when the next train was due to arrive. We were much impressed with this technology. We got off at a station called Bogatell, just past the Port Olimpico, and ascended into daylight. Chris and Dave studied the map and began directing us to our hotel. Five minutes later, we were lost and much dicking around began as Chris tried to figure out were we were. Eventually, he noticed that we were standing right next to a building that looked suspiciously like the H10 Marina Barcelona hotel—our final destination. David and I were unimpressed, but Chris pointed out that the map in the Lonely Planet guide was wrong.

We checked in and went up to our rooms on the 7th floor. David and Rupert were in a room just opposite the elevator, whilst Chris and Dave had a room adjacent to myself and Amal. We quickly changed clothes and met to head out to the Port Olimpico, which was a fairly short walk from our hotel. We headed towards the two towers which marked the Olympic port area, wandering past some rather bizarre sculptures in the centre of the road. It was really hot and I decided that my decision to change into shorts was probably a good one.

Everyone was hungry, so after a brief pause to admire the marina, we walked over to the area housing the casino, a massive bronze sculpture type thing and several restaurants. We settled on a restaurant called "Monchos". It looked like it might be pretty decent, so we headed inside and found a table. After glancing at the menu, we decided that the way forward was to order tapas. Rupert was not keen on this idea, since the main option was fish, so he made his own choice. Our waiter came over and we got in some mussels, whitebait, small squid, bread and some potato product known as "patatas bravas". Rupert ordered some kind of plate of ham which seemed to cost about twenty Euros. As our tapas began to arrive, David commented that our waiter bore a distinct likeness to six times world snooker champion Ray Reardon. The rest of us were somewhat unsure. The tapas was excellent, however and Dave was keen to get himself some more bread in to finish off the mayonnaise that came with the patatas bravas (fried potatoes). The mussels were a particularly good choice, as they were served in an enormous metal pot. The one downside with Ray Reardon was that he seemed fairly keen to mop up the plates even though Dave was still finishing the sauce. Amal commented that the whitebait was almost nonexistant—it seemed to be pure batter. We all agreed that the tapas was really good, though it seemed like Rupert's ham dish was pretty poor value for money.

Once we'd all eaten our fill, we paid Ray Reardon handsomely and walked towards the beach. There was some kind of arena set up on the edge of the beach with a tennis court in it. An advert said that Martina Hingis and Tommy Robredo would be appearing over the weekend. We were keen to hang around, but nothing appeared to be happening so we continued to walk along the beach. Amal was amazed with all of the topless bathing that was going on, and remarked that he would like to borrow one of our pairs of sunglasses so he could appreciate the view more. It was, by now, pretty hot, so we stopped some distance along the beach at a bar and relaxed with a drink. We were determined to try to take it fairly easy as we knew how relaxing the Colonel's weekend breaks could be.

After a further trek along the beach and thousands of associated line penetrations we found ourselves on the outskirts of Port Vell. Chris spied an ice-cream vendor and got in a round for myself, him and Amal. Not to be outdone, David got in a round of lemon granizzodas (slushes) on the entrance to Port Vell. As we finished our ice creams and granizzodas, we walked across the bridge into the Port Vell area. It was pretty deserted and we spent some time chilling by the waterfront before coming to the conclusion that it was time to head back to the hotel to prepare for the evening meal. As we'd had a long walk, and Dave was still recovering from his broken knee so didn't want to walk too much, we made for the nearest tube station, which was called Barcelonetta. As we entered the station, it became apparent that a train was approaching. Dave and I headed for the platform, but Chris pointed out that we wanted the platform on the opposite side of the tracks. I quickly changed direction and headed down the stairs after the others. Amal, Chris and Rupert had already boarded the train. I realised at this point that Dave was unable to run with his bad knee and so wouldn't make the train. I shouted to David that Dave wasn't going to make it, but he merely laughed, replying that it was his own fault. As I boarded the train, the doors closed, leaving Dave on the platform. I informed the others what had happened and David immediately felt remorseful. He'd forgotton that Dave was carrying an injury, thinking that it had been simply dicking around which had cost him. We were still somewhat amused, but didn't like leaving Dave on his own, so waited for him on the platform at Bogatell. Dave arrived on the next train and we apologised before walking back together to the hotel.

Amal, David, Rupert, Chris and I decided to check out the rooftop pool, so we all headed up there. Unfortunately, the sun was on the far side of the building, so the pool was in the shade and therefore freezing. It was also apparent that there was a bunch of total wasters in the pool area, including a fair collection of lager louts. We couldn't really understand how such people could afford to stay in a supposedly classy hotel. One kid was particularly annoying as he spent most of the time doing bombs into the pool. David was tempted to kick him, but we advised him not to.

After showering and changing, we headed back to Barcelonetta for our evening out. The plan was to go to Luz de Gas, an amazing looking bar on a boat that we'd seen in the Port Vell area earlier that day and get some tapas in, before moving on to a restaurant for the evening meal. We were directed to a table overlooking the marina and we ordered some sangria and a little bit of tapas in the form of crisps and bruschetta. The sangria was excellent and a second round was requested, along with some more tapas—squid and meatballs being the order of the day this time around. I was sat with my back to the water and all of a sudden I heard lots of splashing. I turned around to discover more fish than I'd ever seen in my life going crazy over a little bit of bread that someone had thrown in the water. They looked positively vicious and Amal commented that the could be piranhas. I said they probably weren't—a much more likely explanation was that they were simply psycho fish. We came to the conclusion that falling in the water would be pretty dangerous. Luz de Gas was excellent, but we couldn't stay there forever, so we decided to head over to a nearby restaurant just across the water and get some food in. Chris negotiated with the waiter, who said we'd have a 20 minute wait for a table. We decided that was fine, so we waited by the bar for a while and stared at the live lobsters waiting to be cooked. After some time, we still hadn't got our table, so we left the restaurant and sat on a wall until it was ready. I took a seat at the end, next to Amal, with Dave next to him. Opposite Dave was Rupert, who was next to David. Chris completed the table, being sat opposite me. As we'd had tapas for starters, we went straight in with the main course. David and I decided to go with a shareatron of squid and tuna steak, whilst Chris and Dave opted for the paella, which was served up in a massive pan. The food was okay, but not particularly amazing. I opted against a dessert, as did Amal, but when David's truffles arrived Amal decided he'd like to try a tiny piece. Since Amal asked for a try, I didn't think it would do any harm my asking for some, but for some reason David was quite happy to let Amal try a bit but didn't want to give me any. Not able to understand what I'd done to upset him, I was a little perturbed.

After coffee, we paid up and left the restaurant, deciding to head out for a stroll back to the hotel along the seafront. I ambled along with Chris at the back, having some chat, whilst Rupert strode out with Dave and David walked along with Amal. After a lengthy trek, we found ourselves back at the Port Olimpico, which apparently turned into some sort of massive meat market in the evening. We wandered through it for a while, but David and Dave were so disturbed by it that the decided to head back to the hotel. Soon, the rest of us came to the same conclusion, so we wandered back and decided to have a quick drink in the hotel bar before going to bed. However, when we arrived back at the hotel we discovered that the place was completely dead and the bar was shut. Slightly disappointed, we returned to our rooms and punched the sack.

Friday, 2nd July

I woke up still feeling completely knackered, but I managed to scramble out of bed and go through the shower. Once I'd emerged, Amal was awake, so he followed suit through the shower and we headed down to breakfast. We discovered that David and Rupert were already there and had secured a circular table for six. There was a wide array of breakfast options. I made for the cooked breakfast area, but soon discovered that the only things vaguely palatable were the breakfast mini sausages, which came in two different varieties. I selected a few, along with some other cooked bits and pieces just to fill out my plate, and headed back to the others. I was somewhat unimpressed, so once I'd eaten my plateful I headed over to the pastry area. Expecting to find some croissants or, at the very least, danish pastries, I was to be disappointed. There was a fairly poor array of somewhat stale looking cakes. I selected a piece of cake which was served with cream and returned to the others. It seemed that they were also pretty demoralised by the breakfast options. Chris and Dave eventually joined us and Chris made up for our lack of enthusiasm by partaking of virtually everything available.

Once everyone had eaten their fill, we returned briefly to our rooms before heading out for the day. The plan was to head for Las Ramblas, via the old town, so we walked to the subway station. On the platform, we soon discovered Barcelona's own version of shafting. The platform clocks, which helpfully counted down the time to the next train to the nearest second, kept adding random minutes to the waiting time. Annoyingly, this happened several times as the countdown got below the minute mark. We sat and waited, conscious that the clock was actually counting up further than it was counting down. Some ten minutes later, our train arrived and we boarded.

We soon found ourselves in the old town. After a brief walk by some ruined walls and a foray into a shop to browse some potential mascots, we found ourselves standing in front of the cathedral. There was a bunch of dodgy mime artists stood there, somewhat reminiscent of those we'd found near the Louvre in Paris. I tried to persuade Rupert to pose for a photo with some of them but he didn't seem too keen so I soon gave up. Instead, we wandered into the cathedral. David suggested extinguishing some of the candles, but I didn't think it was such a good idea. At the side of the cathedral, there was a large courtyard with a drinking fountain in, which Amal made use of, whilst I checked out the rather strange semi-open air pots. Feeling that we were in danger of dicking around, we left the cathedral by the side entrance. We noticed a statue in front of us, with 5 figures in different poses, which the others recreated successfully whilst I took a photo.

Dave took over the directions and proceeded to navigate us through some back streets in the old town in search of Las Ramblas. Amal was still keen to find some shades for our next trip to the beach, so we stopped in a couple of shops, but he decided against it. Emerging on Las Ramblas, I instructed the others that we should try to find the area in which animals were sold, since it was quite interesting. David was getting a little fed up, as he decided that Las Ramblas was ridiculously tacky. He was probably right. We did, however, have a slight chuckle as we passed a mime artist sat on a pot reading a newspaper, and another one who appeared to be hidden in a pot.

We arrived at the bottom of Las Ramblas having failed to find the animals and chilled for a while next to a statue of a lion. It was pretty hot, so we made the decision to head over the road into the Port Vell area to chill with a drink. The Port Vell area was linked to the mainland via a walkway with a swing bridge on it. As we arrived, some security guards had roped it off and were preparing to open it to allow a boat to pass underneath. It seemed that the person in charge of the boat was dicking around, so Amal, David and I looking out at the water for a while, admiring the shoal of psycho fish swimming beneath us.

The security guards finally let us cross the bridge and we headed over to a bar that we'd walked past the previous day under some sort of canvas, and purchased a round of drinks. Dave was struggling a little with his knee, so when we decided it was time for a little wander around Port Vell, he sat down on a seat and waited for us. Chris, David and I wandered into a shop and checked out some mascots, eventually deciding to purchase a little black bull, whom we immediately christened Reardon. It seemed fitting, somehow. We hurriedly made plan for the rest of the day. I was keen to take the boys to the Olympic stadium, but also wanted to see if we could find the animals on Las Ramblas, so we decided to head back to the bottom of Las Ramblas, catch the subway halfway up, walk the remainder of the way up the street and then catch the subway over to the bottom of the Olympic hill. Exiting Port Vell, we caught the subway. As we came to our stop, I suddenly found myself being rudely pushed from behind by some woman. I couldn't believe it, and immediately pushed her back. As she left the train, she turned around and started shouting at me in Spanish. David immediately chipped in and slagged her off in English. This argument went on for some time, before we went our separate ways at the exit to the subway.

We emerged onto the street and headed up Las Ramblas. We were soon greeted with the animal market. David and Amal were shocked by how many animals were crammed into each cage. We discussed the possibility of trying to set them free, but decided we might get in trouble. At the top of Las Ramblas, we caught the subway out to Espanya. I was delighted to discover that our train had no carriage doors, enabling you to look down the entire length of the train, a particularly freaky experience when going round corners.

Espanya station was situated at the bottom of the road leading up to the art gallery on the Olympic hill. Two large towers marked the entrance to the area. We passed underneath them and walked towards the art gallery. David was keen to find a brasserie for a spot of lunch, but there was nowhere obvious in sight. I was a little worried about this, as I was convinced there would be nowhere suitable in the Olympic area. We made for the escalators that would take us all the way up to the art gallery. The first one led us to a rather impressive fountain and next to this was a take away shack. I suggested this may be our best luncheon option (there was a restaurant nearby but it wasn't clear whether it was open), so I ordered a sandwich and a drink whilst some of the others ordered chips. David and Amal appeared to be having a bit of a disagreement, as David wanted some chips but Amal wanted him to order them himself. This caused David to get nothing other than a drink. Fortunately Chris kindly let him have some of his chips.

We sat down and chilled next to the shack for a while and took the time to get acquainted with Reardon. The Olympic area was beckoning, so we headed for the steps to the art gallery. Dave and Chris took the escalator whilst the rest of us bounded up the steps to the top. The view was incredible and we took a few photos. Unfortunately, the fountain wasn't working and neither was the waterfall near the top of the steps. Dave collapsed whilst the rest of us wandered around for a bit. Amal pointed out a skyscraper that appeared to be somewhat penis-shaped, so he posed for a photo with it. Dave joined us and we headed around the side of the art gallery, past a set of gardens that were closed, and up a trail to the main road through the Olympic area. At this point, we were confronted with more traffic cones than we'd ever seen on a Colonel's break before. They were lining the street as far as the eye could see. Not wishing to rush anything, we walked downhill until we found two traffic cones slightly off the road, and David and I posed for the traditional cry of "stop telling me what to do!"

We arrived at a playground and Rupert decided he'd like to have a go at some pull ups on the overhead bars. Dave, Chris, David and I were more interested in some kind of roundabout/swing/seesaw kind of thing with four seats. We all had a go on in, realising that between us we could actually get the thing moving pretty quickly. We walked past an Olympic museum and I suggested we could probably enter the Olympic park at the bottom of the hill. Unfortunately, I was wrong, as it was completely fenced off, so we turned around and headed uphill again. By this time the playground was occupied by a bunch of school kids. David and I speculated that they may be playing the Space Hunter game on the climbing frame. Rupert had another go on the bars and then hurried to catch us up.

We briefly detoured through a little park and found ourselves at the Olympic stadium. There was a huge park next to it with a large water feature (similar to a rowing strip) in the middle. We all wandered around taking in the sights. The lower part of the park appeared to be fenced off (it was the area I'd suggested we access earlier). Several photos were taken, including one of Rupert chilling, which I got. Unfortunately got in the way of David as he was trying to take the same photo (much to his disappointment).

The Olympic stadium itself proved to be a bit of a disappointment. I spotted a stray cat wandering around inside it and I thought that it seemed a shame that they had let their stadium deteriorate to this level. Most of the stadium was unaccessible, but we did spend a short time chilling with some beverages and I took a pot stop, which was a mistake, as the pots were disgusting. As we were leaving, an English guy approached us and asked us if we knew what was going on in the European championships. We replied that Portugal were playing Greece in the final and after a little bit of banter, we left him to admire what was left of the stadium.

Dave and Chris suggested a trip on the cable car up to Montjuic castle, which was a short distance away, but the day was getting on and, given that the trip on the cable car was pretty expensive, we decided we'd just take the cable car down to the beach area instead. Unfortunately Chris now had control of the guidebook, so it was unclear how far we'd have to walk before we arrived at the cable car. Dave, David and I spent the time reminiscing about Barcelona beach and thinking of as many words as possible which rhymed with "ditty". We wandered past a rather large outdoor swimming pool on the side of the hill, so we entered it for a quick look. After spending a while looking down from the galleries at people using the diving boards, we continued our trek. Amal was beginning to become disgruntled, but we shortly arrived at the cable car. After a brief look over the harbour, we purchased tickets, only to discover that we'd just missed a cable car. I sat down to wait. It seemed that the cable car stopped at some kind of halfway platform which allowed viewing over the harbour, before continuing on towards Port Vell. When the next car arrived, we all climbed aboard. I sat down in the only seat (feeling safer that way) and once a family had got on board too, we were ready to go. David and I reminded ourselves why we hated cable cars so much. The fact that there was nothing below us as the car began its journey was terrifying. As we passed over the waterfront, I remarked that if the cable car fell now, we'd either drown or be eaten by the psycho fish. It was difficult to work out which would be worse. At the halfway point, the car stopped, and we had a few minutes of relaxation before continuing. As we carried on, Amal remarked that he'd rather die by hitting the concrete if he fell out of the cable car tan risk being eaten by the psycho fish. At least his death would be quick.

Much to my relief, we disembarked safely. There were rumours of a restaurant at the top of the tower in Port Vell, but it was unclear whether it still existed and whether the food was any good, so we descended to ground level and made for the beach. We found a nice beachside bar and chilled with drinks for a while. Amal tried on Rupert's sunglasses a couple of times.

At this point, Dave decided he was quite enjoying chilling in the bar, and would like to continue doing that. So as the remainder of us headed back to the hotel to prepare for our evening out, Dave stayed put and ordered himself another beer.

After a brief stop to look for Martina Hingis in the Port Olimpico area, we walked back to the hotel. As we were approaching the hotel, some rather drunken Spanish guy walked past us and said something to us. We ignored him, so he spat on the floor and shouted, "English!" David couldn't believe it, and immediately turned around, gestured and swore at the guy. Fortunately he simply carried on walking, so we made it safely back to the hotel. We decided to check out the pool again, but a group of loud English women were there and we made the decision to quit. Amal, David, Rupert and I left the area, leaving Chris to swim on his own for a little while, maybe hoping to pull whilst we were away.

Once we were all ready, we headed out and took the subway to Luz de Gas, where we met Dave. It appeared that he'd been allocated a pretty crap table, and we were keen to sit upstairs, so we made the move up. The waitress was a little unhappy with our choice, as she pointed out that normally only groups of four or fewer were allowed on the upper deck. However, she pushed two tables together for us (refusing to accept any help) and indicated for us to sit down. We got in the customary order of sangria, coke and tapas, which was a mixture of bruschetta, meatballs, calimari and various other bits and pieces. We relaxed, chatted and occasionally stared with a slight feeling of foreboding at the psycho fish.

Once we were ready to go, we paid our bill and wandered into the old town in search of food. After checking out a couple of places we weren't too keen on, we got stopped outside a restaurant by a Scandinavian woman offering us free drinks should we dine in her restaurant. The menu looked pretty decent, so we decided to take her up on her offer. We all sat down and ordered our free drinks. At this point, it was unclear what drinks qualified. David wasn't allowed to order a coke, but the rest of us could get in Sangrias. Dave struck up a deal whereby we took some of our free drinks at that point and the remainder in a later round. I ordered the tomato soup for starters followed by steak and the others order likewise. The dinner was pretty good—the steak in particular went down a treat. After a while, I felt the need to go to the toilet, so I went upstairs, past several other diners and found the bathrooms. I was confronted with two doors, one of which was the door to the ladies and the other the gents. However, it was unclear which was which. Both of the doors had sculptures on them—one in the shape of a crab and the other in the shape of a seahorse. I paused for a while, realising I had an audience, before going with my instinct and walking through the crab door. I then returned to the others to tell them they'd have a conundrum to solve if they went to the toilet. People were intrigued and one by one, during the course of the meal, people wandered upstairs to check it out. Once everyone had been, we all came clean about which door we'd chosen. It seemed that everyone had gone for the crab, except Amal who'd chosen the seahorse. Chris stated that he thought both toilets might be unisex. I had to confess that I'd not thought of that possibility.

I made a final pot stop (in the crab toilet) and we then left the restaurant. Dave and David were pretty tired and wanted to get the subway home. Amal, Rupert and I fancied a walk however, so we opted to split up. We briefly stopped at an ice-cream parlour for Amal and Chris to purchase ice-creams, before going our separate ways. We told the others we were thinking of stopping at Reardon's on our way home for a final drink, if any of them wished to join us. Dave and Chris said that they might, whilst David was keen to get some rest. We left them at the tube station and I tried to navigate the others through the old town to the water front. Unfortunately, we soon discovered that we're lost in the winding streets of the old town. I made the sensible suggestion of heading downhill, as it was likely to lead us to the coast and, after wandering through a very crowded piazza, we spotted Port Vell in front of us.

After a lengthy and pleasant walk along the seafront, we arrived at Reardon's to discover that it looked fairly shut down for the night. Somewhat disappointed, we vowed to go for a drink anyway. I spotted a bar raised up on a balcony overlooking the Port Olimpico and we wandered over to it. Rupert got a round in and we relaxed in the pleasant atmosphere of the bar, with the rowdy meat market far below us. After about half an hour, the bar filled with about a hundred people on rollerblades. Having been enjoying a pretty good chat, we decided it was probably time to head home, as the bar had now become very noisy. With that in mind we took the ten minute walk back to the hotel. Amal and I bade goodnight to Rupert outside his room before returning to our own to punch the sack.

Saturday, 3rd July

Amal and I woke up to a knock on our door. I struggled to open it and Rupert walked in. He was clearly in a bit of a state and it turned out that David was annoyed we'd all gone out to a bar without him the previous night. I was a little puzzled by this, since he knew that we were going and he'd opted to go back to the hotel to get some sleep. Rupert said he thought we were just going to Reardon's and then coming home and he was upset that we'd gone somewhere else. I pointed out that we couldn't have known that Reardon's would be closed and David would have been most welcome to join us. I then asked Rupert if he'd told David we'd not managed to find Chris and Dave. Rupert hadn't and I realised that perhaps David had the impression that all of the rest of us had gone out somewhere without him, which wasn't the case. I told Rupert to go down to breakfast and we'd see them shortly. Amal and I got ourselves ready hurriedly, a little surprised about the drama that had clearly unfolded in Rupert's room that morning. By the time we made it down to breakfast, David and Rupert were about ready to go, so they wandered upstairs, saying they were going to go for a walk. Dave and Chris joined us and I asked them what had happened to them the previous night. It turned out the they were waiting for us in Reardon's. It hadn't been closed at all!

The breakfast was pretty poor, the only bonus being that we'd acquired a decent circular table in the centre of the restaurant. Chris made the most of it, however, and had about three courses. Amal and I headed back to the room and got ourselves ready for our excursion day. Dave and I had come up with the plan of heading out to Parc Guell, a supposedly impressive park in northern Barcelona that contained lots of Gaudi stuff. We also decided that a stop on route at the Sagrada Familia might be a good plan. We met David and Rupert in the foyer of the hotel, fresh from their morning stroll, and headed out for the day. We wandered to Bogatell tube station and, after a brief shafting at an intermediate station when we had to walk about six miles to change tube lines, we emerged at the Sagrada Familia.

The place was absolutely crowded and we wandered around the outside to look at it. David and I were talking about how much of a rip off it was to go into. Chris misunderstood and expressed that he was interested in going in too. We briefly looked for somewhere to chill with a drink, but it didn't look too promising. We returned to the subway and took a train up to Parc Guell. The nearest subway stop to Parc Guell was still about half a mile from the park itself. After we'd walked for a while, I suggested stopping for a drink. The only place we could find was some dodgy looking bar. However, it was probably our only option, so we wandered in and spent a while chilling with some drinks. The waiter didn't speak any English, so we did our best to communicate in Spanish. After a while, we paid the bill and continued up the hill towards Parc Guell. Eventually, we arrived at a set of escalators which seemed to indicate the way forward. At the top of these, we crossed the road and found ourselves on the edge of Parc Guell. We wandered past some annoying busker and wandered up hill to some sort of look out point. The view over Barcelona was impressive and we spent a while taking photos of the surrounding area and sitting by the little rock tower structure on the hill.

It seemed that there were no signposts in Parc Guell telling us where to go. I asked if it was usual for signposts to be placed in parks. Dave said that opinion was divided on the matter—all the other parks said it was, Parc Guell said it wasn't. We arrived at a nice looking Gaudi house and took a path that took us behind it. We soon found ourselves standing on another hill, apparently outside the park. The lack of signposts was becoming a problem. We steered ourselves through the undergrowth and took a short cut back to the house. Just around the corner, there was a rather ornate Gaudi-style walkway. We took a couple of photographs and Amal and I left the others chilling whilst we investigated the area underneath the walkway. It was pretty impressively designed. As we walked through, I looked up and saw some mentalist jester sat on a platform attached to one of the pillars holding the walkway up. He appeared to be waving at us. I gave him 5 cents and he waved happily as I took his photo. This done, we returned to the others and persuaded them to check out the area we'd just been to. At this point, David was keen for another spot of chilling, so we headed over to the central area of Parc Guell, where we found a massive open courtyard area with lots of seating. The area was covered with pigeons. We sat at a table and Chris and I got a round of ice-creams in. Since it was getting towards mid-afternoon, we were starting to think about lunch. David was keen to go to Reardon's, even though it was a long way away. We all agreed, so we walked through the courtyard, down some steps, through an interesting acropolis type structure and towards the main entrance to Parc Guell. There was an impressive waterfall at the entrance and we stopped to take some photos before leaving the park.

Dave decided we'd be best heading for a different tube station from the one we'd been to earlier if we were intending to go for food at Reardon's. It was a pretty long walk, however, and we were all fairly knackered by the time we eventually arrived at the station. The prospect of going to Reardon's was the only thing that was keeping us going.

We got off the subway at the Port Olimpico and wandered over to Reardon's for a spot of lunch. We opted for the usual tapas, but this time went for small fish and clams rather than mussels and small squid. It seemed to be a mistake, as the portion of clams was nowhere near the same size as the mussels we'd had previously. We were also disappointed that we weren't served be Ray Reardon. He spent the time whilst we were having our lunch eating from a pot of mussels he'd clearly made for himself. Once we'd finished lunch, we wandered to beach for a spot of afternoon chilling. Chris and I decided to go swimming, leaving the boys to admire the view from the beach. The sea was very pleasant and Chris and I had a nice swim and chat for a while. After an hour or so, we left the sea and returned to the others . The evening was approaching and it was time for us to get back to the hotel and prepare for the stammtisch, which would be at Luz de Gas.

Back at the hotel, Amal and I spent a while chilling in our room before going through the shower and preparing for the night out. Once we'd both got ready, we departed for the stammtisch at Luz de Gas. We were a little concerned that we'd meet some of the others on route, so we were careful to be quiet as we left the room. We arrived at Bogatell station and, discovering that none of the Colonel's regiment were on the platform, we sat down to wait for the train. The clock slowly ticked down from 3 minutes and, as the train arrived, we breathed a sigh of relief that none of the others had joined us. We felt that the stammtisch would have been ruined if we'd met more of the group at the station. We soon arrived at Barceloneta, so we exited the station and wandered over to Luz de Gas. There was a sign at the bottom of the steps to the boat saying that the place was full. We were a little worried, but we decided to try it anyway. We were greeted by our friendly waitress from the previous evening. Apparently the others hadn't arrived at that point, so she directed us to a free table on the near side of the boat. We were disappointed that we didn't have a view over the marina area, but were pleased to get a table. We ordered sangria and some bruschetta, deciding to wait for the others before getting in a large order of tapas. We spent a pleasant half hour chilling and speculating as to who would show up next. Normally we would have predicted that it would be Dave and Chris but given that Dave was suffering with his knee somewhat, we weren't sure.

We eventually sighted the next two Colonel's men entering the bar and soon we found that Dave and Chris were joining us on our table. They too got in an order of sangria. Half an hour later, Rupert and David joined us. David seemed a little disappointed that they were the last ones to arrive and I suspected that Rupert had been dicking around. We discussed moving to a better table but realised that we would then be served by someone else. We ordered a selection of tapas, a coke for David and another round of sangria.

After some time spent chilling and looking at the psycho fish, we departed and wandered into the old town for dinner. Chris spotted a pizza place and suggested we stop in for dinner, but it was deserted, so we decided against it. Things were looking a little bleak, but Rupert and David saw a likely restaurant and waved us over to check it out. The menu looked pretty good and we decided to go in. Chris led the way and David told him to secure the circular table in the corner, which he duly did.

I took a seat at the table with Chris to my right and Dave to my left. Rupert was next to Dave, with David next to Rupert and Amal between David and Chris. I began to prepare everything for the draw. The first order of the day would be to decide who would be taking charge of the various extra parts of the draw. I took six pieces of paper, left one blank and labelled the others "Little Lucky Leprechaun", "Shaft", "Kurt", "Grosser Vass" and "Steve". I then instructed everyone to pick a piece of paper each. Dave's was blank, whilst Amal got Shaft, Chris got Kurt and David got Steve. I would be playing Grosser Vass whilst Rupert would be standing in as the Little Lucky Leprechaun.

The waiter came and we ordered some wine, along with our meals. I ordered fish soup (as did Dave) whilst Amal and David went for some sharing option on some fish starters. For main course, most of us ordered the steak, whilst David went for the duck and Amal ordered some kind of fish.

After another draw to decide what order the destinations would be revealed in, the serious business started. Chris would be the first to reveal. I shuddered in anticipation. However, Chris said he'd like to go back to Scandinavia and was going for

HELSINKI

A fine choice. Most of us were pleased. It was then Steve's turn, so David picked up the envelope and opened it. Steve was keen to go back to Scandinavia too, and also to check out a potential place of work, so he decided on

OSLO

His back up destinations were Berlin {which he actually wasn't allowed to put in) and Gothenberg, so I was quite pleased that Oslo was going in.

Our starters arrived. It became apparent to myself and Dave that the soup wasn't necessarily the best choice. It was actually just a bowl of water with some unshelled prawns in. It was okay, but pretty messy.

Dave was keen to push on with the revealing, and since it was my turn next I started speaking. My rationale was simple—Iceland Express had started cheap flights from Stansted to Iceland and so my choice was

REYKAVIK

David seemed pleased. Three destinations out of three in Scandinavia thus far. David spoke next. He said he'd had a tough decision to make this time around, but was going for a destination he'd been keen to visit for some time. With that in mind, he was going for

AMSTERDAM

Good choice. The Copenhagen deal between David and Steve had finally been broken.

Our starters were cleared away and Rupert was next to go. This was the dangerous one. He said his destination was suggested by his work colleagues. This didn't inspire confidence. He was going for

BUDAPEST

Well, it could have been worse. Dave declared that Budapest was a fine choice, since he's been there and it was really nice. David didn't look too happy with this revelation.

Amal was next. He said that his choice was

COPENHAGEN

Somehow Copenhagen would be in the draw anyway! Only Dave to go. We knew he'd be wacky, but who knew what he'd go for. He soon put us out of our misery, saying that he'd gone for a wacky destination and his choice was

AMSTERDAM

Wacky indeed, since David had already selected it. Certainly a shock, but we couldn't have cause for complaint.

The main courses arrived and we fell to discussing the choice for the Little Lucky Leprechaun. Scandinavia was well represented and it seemed that there was one obvious country we'd not visited on a break that was not in the draw thus far. Hence the choice for the Little Lucky Leprechaun would be

SWITZERLAND

We tucked into our main courses happily. The steak was certainly very good. David was enjoying the duck, but wasn't too impressed at the lack of vegetables. At this point, a little Spanish kid from the table next to us came over and started reaching out for something on our table. Rupert reached for the Little Lucky Leprechaun and dangled him above his head. The kid reached out for it, but David put a stop to it, pointing out that the kid would probably pull his head off. Rupert replied that he wasn't going to let him have it, but thought he'd just show it to him.

I prepared for the veto round, handing paper around to everyone. Once everyone had vetoed their desired destination, the pieces of paper were put into a glass and handed to Chris who was presiding over Kurt's Veto. He said, "I'll count the votes" before removing the pieces of paper from the glass one at a time. "None", "None", "Budapest", "None", "None", "None" was the count. David had voted for Budapest whilst no one had voted for anything else. The draw was therefore unaffected. We put in an order for desserts, with most of us opting for truffles, whilst we moved into the Shaft round. "The Little Lucky Leprechaun" and "Steve" were written on pieces of paper and placed in a glass along with four blanks (as Steve was not on the break). They were mixed around and the glass was then handed to Amal. He picked one out, opened it and said, "It's the leprechaun". We couldn't believe it—another destination had been shafted. The Little Lucky Leprechaun's choice of Switzerland was thus removed from the draw. However, there was a chance for redemption in the Grosser Vass round. This round was a new round for Barcelona. The set up was the same as for the Shaft round, except that any destination drawn out would have its chancing of winning the draw doubled, by being placed in the hat twice (or if already shafted, that person would be reinstated). The Grosser Vass round was prepared and the glass was passed to me. I drew out a piece of paper, but it was blank. Thus the draw would remain unchanged.

The desserts arrived and we tucked in. The truffles were particularly good. It was time for the rehearsal draw. As the Little Lucky Leprechaun had been shafted, Rupert was not required to eliminate a destination on his behalf. The glass was thus immediately passed to Dave, who eliminated David's version of Amsterdam. David consoled himself with a Barthez. Amal then eliminated Budapest, Rupert got rid of Helsinki, David ironically picked Amsterdam (Dave), leaving me to eliminate Oslo. It was me against Amal to decide the winner of the rehearsal draw. With Amal's excellent win record, the result was inevitable and as David eliminated my very own Reykavik (on behalf of Steve), Amal celebrated with a Shearer and Chris revealed Copenhagen as the winner. David commented that that was the first time that Copenhagen had won any kind of draw, having been in 13 draws in total. Obviously Amal's luck outweighed the bad luck tied in with Copenhagen.

We got in a round of coffees and prepared for the draw. We could feel the tension around the room now. Even though most of the destinations were pretty good, there was still that feeling of trepidation that we always got on draw night. The destinations were placed in the glass and everyone mixed them up, before it was returned to Dave for the first elimination. Dave selected a piece of paper and revealed

AMSTERDAM (Dave)

He did a Barthez. The glass moved on to Amal who eliminated

COPENHAGEN

Another failure for Copenhagen and the trend of people eliminating their own destinations continued. Rupert was next up and he eliminated

REYKAVIK

Bugger. My bad luck in the draw continued. Barring one victory, I was yet to finish better than 4th! With four destinations left, I was conscious that Budapest, my least favourite of all the destinations, was still there. David took the glass and eliminated

HELSINKI

My favourite of the remaining destinations had gone. Things were hotting up now. I was next. The pressure was high. I really wanted to eliminate Budapest, but was hoping I didn't get rid of Oslo. I picked a piece of paper and looked it at. It said

AMSTERDAM (David)

The tension would drag out still further. David was annoyed as he'd again failed to win the draw, despite another good finish. However, worse for him was the knowledge that he had the duty of the final elimination. It was Budapest, a destination he'd tried to veto, against Oslo, a Scandinavian top choice. He selected a piece of paper, convinced that he'd eliminated Oslo, whilst Chris took the remaining piece of paper. Hardly able to look, he opened it and suddenly shouted "YES!" He said, "Well, it's Oslo next time!" and showed us

BUDAPEST

on his piece of paper.

Hence the winner was

OSLO

As Chris revealed Oslo as the winner, David leapt out of his seat in delight to celebrate with a Shearer on behalf of Steve. He couldn't believe it. He declared that he was tempted to leave the restaurant and run all the way around the block in Shearer style, but as it was quite late, he was concerned that the waiter would not let him back in.

In high spirits, we left the restaurant and made the decision to walk back in the direction of Reardon's along the seafront. It was a pleasant evening still, though Amal and I were starting to feel quite exhausted. Once we'd arrived back in the Port Olimpico area, David, Rupert and Chris were keen to go for a drink (perhaps in the vain hope that Martina Hingis was still around). Dave, Amal and I were ready to punch the sack, so I directed them to the bar that Amal, Rupert and I had visited the previous evening, before wishing them well and setting off back to the hotel.

Once arriving back there, Amal and I bade Dave goodnight before returning to our room to get some well-earned rest.

Sunday, 4th July

I woke up early, with that horrible feeling that ran hand in hand with the end of a break. The final night had been excellent, and Oslo's victory had made it all the more satisfying. But in a few hours we'd be back in the UK with several months to wait before mission 8.

Once Amal and I had both been through the shower, we collected David and Rupert and wandered down to breakfast. We were allocated a big table in the corner of the room. The breakfast options seemed to be getting worse as the week went on, so I contented myself with a couple of mangled pastries and a few glasses of orange juice. We were soon joined by Chris and Dave, but when the table next to us became occupied by a rowdy bunch of English women, we decided it was time to leave.

Once we'd checked out of the hotel and struck a deal with them to look after our luggage, we wandered down to the beach. Amal seemed keen to check out some more of the talent before we headed back to the UK. We found a bar some distance down the beach and chilled for a while with some drinks. After a lengthy debate, we decided that there was nothing for it but to return to Reardon's for a final bit of tapas. We were pleased to be directed to our usual table, but disappointed that Ray Reardon didn't serve us. The tapas was high quality and Rupert selected the rather weird dish he'd gone for the previous day. There was a small group of Spanish people crowded around the television in the corner, watching the French Grand Prix. Predictably, Michael Schumacher won.

Once we'd all eaten our fill, we wandered outside and posed for some photos, one in which we pretended to be playing snooker with Ray Reardon in the background. It was approaching time for us to leave, so we wandered back to the hotel, collected our bags and headed to the underground. The mood was sombre, as the break was nearly over, and Oslo seemed a long way in the future.

Back at the main station, Dave and I headed to the shop and got in a smorgasbord of chocolate bars for the journey, including a packet of biscuits called filipinos. We wandered over to the bus area but it was unclear which bus we should get on. I walked the length of the bus area, past a rather strange vending machine which sold hot pizza, but we eventually decided our bus must be the one in the same place as the bus had dropped us off on day one. The area was a little dodgy, with several tramps around sleeping in cardboard boxes and sitting on the wall chatting to each other.

After much dicking around by the bus driver, we set off and headed back to Reus airport. The journey was uneventful—we were all tired and conversation was at a low point. The airport was really busy, and our check-in desk wasn't open, so we joined quite a long line and waited.

Eventually, we checked in and found ourselves in the departures area, where we settled down for a somewhat lengthy wait for our plane. Rupert went through the traditional debate of whether he should buy his Mum some whisky, whilst Chris contemplated going for one of the meal deals which were being advertised by several boards hanging from the roof (David and I commented that the food was a complete rip off).

After a two hour flight, with a rather impressive section over the Pyrannes, we found ourselves back at Stansted airport. By this time, it was about ten in the evening and I was pretty tired. Once through baggage reclaim, we said goodbye to Dave, who hurried to catch his bus to London. It was the first departure and highlighted the fact that mission seven was over. The rest of us caught the bus to the midstay car park, where David, Chris and I bade farewell to Amal and Rupert. Rupert was hitching a lift with Amal back to London, hoping to get a train back to Crowborough from there. The rest of us continued our journey back to David's house. I was absolutely shattered and the whole journey was spent with me being terrified that I was going to fall asleep at the wheel. David kept me talking the whole way, which did the trick, whilst Chris slept happily in the back, oblivious of how tired I actually was. Much to my relief, we arrived at David's house in tact. I had just enough energy to stagger into the house with my case. After a brief period of chilling, I got into bed and fell asleep.

Monday, 5th July

I woke up at around 9a.m., absolutely exhausted. The break was basically over, though the experience had not yet ended for some of the Colonel's regiment. David was off to work, so whilst we had breakfast I suggested that we should get Chris to the station. Whilst we were debating what to do, Chris suddenly came down and announced that there was a train in ten minutes, so would like to be taken to the station. We weren't ready to go, and were amazed at this—had he warned us some time earlier we could have prepared ourselves. We hurriedly threw on some clothes and drove Chris to the station, informing him that he may well miss the train owing to some poor organisation. He didn't seem too bothered about this.

Fortunately we did manage to get in before the train left. We bade farewell to him and he headed off home. The Barcelona experience had ended for yet another of the Colonel's regiment. David and I returned home. As David prepared himself for work, I gathered my belongings and loaded the car. Once I was ready, I said goodbye to David and began my drive back home. The experience was over for another six months, but the journey continued. The drive back was fairly reasonable and I arrived home about an hour and a half later. I walked into my house and collapsed with exhaustion. The break had been excellent. Not as funny, perhaps, as previous breaks, but fantastic nonetheless. The Barcelona experience was finally over.

But it's Oslo next time.