Barcelona airport is just down the coast. You don´t notice the aircraft during the day, probably because the flight path is quite high and over the sea and so consistant that you become used to them. But at night, still apparently silent, the planes are only identifiable by their navigation lights. Soundless spirits gliding among the dark clouds and pools of stars.
From our balcony I watch a tall girl in tee shirt and shorts, with a bouncing tail, running barefoot over the wet sand at the edge of the sea. She leaves footprints but they soften and quickly vanish in her wake.
There´s an espresso coffee machine in the breakfast room of a type which I have seen advertised but always eschewed because of the cost of running it. You feed it with cartridges, one for each cup, press a button and your waiting cup is filled with a perfect stream of hot espresso. Extra boiling water can be added from a separate station. Expensive it must be, but the quality of the coffee compares favourably with what we became used to in previous years dispensed from a big thermo flask.
How delightful this place sounds and how delighted you seem. A good birthday was had, I assume. Best wishes!
Aha! You have the wherewithal to create a café allongé, the subject of my greatest and longest quest in France and which could easily form the subject of 3000-word essay touching on French pigheadedness, lack of co-operation and unwillingness to disclose the central details of the country's culture. A précis-ed version will be available at The Retreat, should you wish.
M L Birthday is tomorrow. Cava is promised and the company of some new friends who are rose breeders.
I look forward to that, BB.
On the 19th?! That is our middle daughter's birthday as well (the one who lives in London). If I'd known, I'd have thought of you at the same time as we sang happy birthday to E.
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