I’m sitting in the Barcelona airport. It’s beautiful outside, and I realise that’s kind-of-sort-of-ironic because I’m inside. But I’ll take what I can get on account of it’s been raining eight of out 10 days of my Spanish-Portuguese vacay. Aw, well. So much for soaking the rays before heading up north.
There is a current Race Against the Volcano going on again. It’s a strange concept, this thing up in the air that’s grounding flights at seemingly random times. Can’t see it, have to believe in it, don’t know when it will act up again. It’s like Jesus.
