Well after last night's disaster, the holiday seems generally to have gone tits-up. HL seems to have caught some bug or other as he is much sicker than he usually is with a hangover. He spent the majority of the day in bed, sleeping, emerging only to eat (and even then he couldn't finish his fettucine), leaving me to entertain myself again. So, I took a stroll up La Rambla to Plaçca de Catalunya to have a look round. I intended on texting our friends to let them know what happened - you can send SMS from the public telephones. However, as I was doing so, some man came shuffling up, talking to himself, muttering "hijo de puta" and "coño". Well, I couldn't be entirely sure that this wasn't directed at me, so caution being the
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