A truly fun Christmas day dinner: a very large goose managed by Susan and Rob, Chris' special slightly-roasted saffron rice, an unexpected slightly spicy yellow pepper soup from Dennis, plus a mushy but tasty pecan pie. I'd bought small gifts for all, just because I thought they should have something to open, and was lucky enough to have done well on a budget – a red scarf for Susan, castanets for Rob (who had never played them but, of course, almost immediately started to develop his technique), sock-slippers for Dennis, and a Gaudí lizard sculpture for Chris. Lively, relaxed conversation, going fairly steadily from 2 pm to 6 pm...
slightly unfortunately, the British expat then arrived with her damned little dog. Everyone at this point was so glazed over, so it-is-hours-since-my-siesta-should-have-started-and-besides-I-can-barely-move, that it was hard to imagine staying for anything; but she gamely continued to chatter and make judgments on everything we did, mentioned or wore, for as long as forty minutes, while the dog ran around, fretting and snapping and desperately trying to draw attention to itself. I have this horrible feeling that she was congratulating herself on her ability to keep the conversation going.... While Rob and I fed the dog goose grease in the kitchen and wondered whether we should make sure that it went outside soon before we found out what that did to its little digestive tract, Susan was staring at the endless conversationalist with increasingly glazed eyes, and Chris was unashamedly sleeping in the corner.
When we all decided: what the hell, we're going home anyway, and started packing up, she finally stood and headed, talking non-stop, for the exit. I walked out with her; then, turning back to give everyone one last good-bye, I saw her returning to the apartment... I fled, but later heard that she couldn't find her keys, and kept everyone bustling around until she got a relative to climb through the window back at her flat.
Ah well, the day was still beautiful. It was warm and sunny, there were actually people on the beach in shirtsleeves...
And the previous day, at the Catalan restaurant, we saw some of the new local Catalan police force, which is noted for its grandly serious Spanish good looks. I apologies for the fuzziness of the photo (I didn't quite dare to fully focus on them, pretending instead to take a picture of Chris); but you get the idea....
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