Posted tagged ‘La Ramblas’

Capers in Catalunya

May 15, 2015

It was when I walked down Las Ramblas that I was having an experience that would change my life. Although at the time of this pivotal moment I didn’t know I was having an experience. Only when I was safely ensconed back in Las Glorious Alba was I informed by a third party about the Nefarious practices of Catalan Artful Dodgers. Unfulfilling for the thieves as it turned out. My trip down the strip changed me. Let us go back to Barcelona before we go further.

My walk down Las Ramblas was without real intent but others were intent on me. Offenses against me by the local populace included being brushed against, bumped, rubbed and wrist frisked. I thought the senoritas were just being over friendly with me and the senors were just plain drunk. It was neither, the pickpockets were having a party with my body. I almost felt sorry for them as after going to all that trouble they had nothing to show for it. You see, I don’t carry cash or cards. Just like when we play Monopoly Mrs W is the banker. And if I can’t get a peseta out of her what chance Pedro?

Another thing I don’t possess is a mobile phone. I dislike the way these contraptions interrupt my brain waves. My head can’t focus around radiation. And it’s also good to be off the radar. Tell me, is it really important to be on call at all times? Not for me, I’m not a phoney person. So the light fingered matadors technical prowess at dipping and passing had encountered an invisible bull. No glory or gore or cells -mobile or jail- for them in this story.

Timepieces are another of my no way Jose eccentricities. Time is precious and I don’t want to waste it by looking at a watch all day. As I’ve said before we spend so much time checking the time we have become slaves to the unrelenting juggernaut that is forever ticking. So I don’t wear a watch. Which made me wonder why the botifarra sausage eaters were having a nibble at my wrists. Maybe they were trying to steal a freckle or something?

A few days ago an old man asked me for the time as I walking along the road. He didn’t believe me when I said I didn’t know it but I could have a guess by judging the height of the sun, distance from earth and the speed of the planet’s axis. About half four, I think. He went on his unmerry way muttering under his breath “has that dope not got a phone?”. So I vowed not to be an old curmudgeon and embrace the, what is it the 19th or something, century. I bought a watch. Furthermore, I wear said watch.

The pickpockets of Glasgow are on a higher latitude than the Latin Catalans. I mean, legend has it that they’ve even been known to steal the eyes out of the unwary. So there will be a high security presence around my watch. There’s no way this watch will be changing hands. I am now a slave to its presence. It won’t leave my sight. I’ll be watching it round the clock.

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