Feeling hungry in La Boqueria, Barcelona ...

The other day I had to go down to Barcelona for a meeting. As luck would have it the venue was just beside Barcelona's totally sensational La Boqueria market. Afterwards I needed somewhere to stop off for lunch with Emi and Mr B, who had driven me down. It would have seemed churlish not to pop into this wonderful foodie's paradise for sustenance, so this is where we ended up.

Mercat de Sant Josep de la Boqueria,

Spring is springing ...

Here, on the sunny Costa Brava, Spring arrives a little earlier than it does back in London. And there are already lots of signs that things are heading in the right direction. In the evenings, after the day's work is done, there are more and more people taking a stroll across the sand on the village beach.

The South Wind, the Migjorn, has been blowing in from the sea bringing us foggy mornings and sunny afternoons, and carrying with it the promise of warmer summer days to come. Hurrah!

April Fool ...

Happy April Fool's Day!

Has anyone caught you yet?

I played a joke on Emi and Mr B yesterday afternoon. The WonderDog and I had gone off on a little saunter over the cliff so that he could attend to his afternoon toilet business. Such jaunts are commonly referred to here in Talk-a-Lot-Towers as Pooh Patrol, and we've even got a ridiculous little song we sing about going on Po-o-o-oh Patrol. The WonderDog, who is clearly a connoisseur of fine music, always recognises the opening bars of the song (as distinct from all the other silly songs we've made up) and gets himself ready at the door for the off.

Anyway, I digress. After our jaunt over the cliffs I came in clutching one of the WonderDog's pooh bags, that was bursting, absolutely full to capacity. It looked as though I'd been picking up after a bull elephant who'd spent the last fortnight with an intestinal blockage that had only been released that very afternoon.

Look what Maxi did! I said, holding my trophy aloft.

They looked at me ashen-faced. How could such a small dog produce such a huge quantity of poop?

And then Emi asked me to show him the contents ...

Well, the game was up. I'd filled it full of pine cones for lighting the fire. When it gets cold of an evening we like to have a fire in the sitting room, and the dried pine cones from those lovely Costa Brava pine trees, are the prefect things to get the flames started. And then, once it's going, they give out a lovely fresh pine fragrance that's become the very smell of home.

Still, my ruse was good while it lasted.

All the best for now,

Bonny x

Knapweed ... or floral super-hero?

"Weeds are flowers too, once you get to know them."

said Winnie-the Pooh 

I'm completely in agreement with Pooh - especially at this time of the year when there's not a whole lot of colour around anywhere for us to enjoy. I saw this rather glorious cluster of knapweed this morning growing quietly beside the path I was following up the cliff. It called out loudly for me to stop and admire it ...

Harbour patrol ...

We'd hardly touched down when the Wonder Dog and I were drawn to the harbour. There's something irresistible about all those boats parked up, and bobbing around on the swell. I love, love, love the harbour. It's a strange, illogical thing this love affair of mine. I'm a rubbish sailor - always sea-sick, but I hanker after this place, and all these lovely boats that I have no desire to ever board and sail away on.

Belfast to Barcelona roadtrip ...

We've made it! We've arrived on the sunny Costa Brava for New Year, or Noche Vieja as Mr B's family term it.

And what a difference a year makes. Last year when we bombed down to the Costa we ran into frosty weather at home and blizzard conditions up in the mountains of the Haute Roussillon. This year we saw massive floods across North Wales and not a smidgen of the white stuff anywhere. Along the length of our journey the weather felt unseasonably warm, and now, down here on the Costa Brava, it's sunny and a balmy 18°C this morning.

Dublin Bay lighthouse in the dawn light

The face that launched a thousand reprimands ...

The other day I was doing some research in the Basilica of Sant Feliu in Girona when this face stopped me in my tracks. She seemed to be looking straight at me, and she didn't seem too pleased with what she saw ... .

The quiet of the cloister ...

In the heart of the ancient Cathedral of Santa Maria sits a beautiful cloister. It's a quiet place, hidden away from the bustle of the outside world, making it a perfect spot for peaceful contemplation - just so long as a bus-load of tourists isn't in the vicinity. Luckily, the morning I stopped by, I pretty much had it to myself. Sitting in a quiet corner, admiring the way the shadows played across the ancient tombstones that line the floor it would have been easy to convince myself that I'd slipped through time into another age. 

The Cloisters, Girona Cathedral

The Dalí Theatre Museum, Figueres ...

The other day we took young Emi up to the Dalí museum in Figueres. He's only nine, but I thought he might get a kick out of the way the great Surrealist Master liked to depict the world around him.

I'd expected young Emi to find Dalí fun, and he did, but he also found some of his work deeply creepy (his exact words). He loved the funky museum, however, without any qualification. It's a great big boisterous building that poses all sorts of questions with its design elements that are guaranteed to have you wondering what Dalí was on about. In short, the museum in Figueres is as much a work of art as anything that it houses. Its ... well, it's like no other building I've ever visited.

The end- of- summer blues ...

We've got a bad case of the end-of-summer blues out here in sunny Sant Feliu de Guíxols. It's all about to end tomorrow when we return to London for the start of the new school term. And none of us is looking forward to the transition. Emi's back at school again on Thursday. The weather forecast for London is less than stellar, so we'll be back to living indoors again, and to all our old routines within a matter of hours of arriving.

As the journey home beckons I can't help but think about another family ... .

Down on the beach there's a sailing school run by an inspirational couple. They've got a young family but that hasn't stopped them living the dream. During the European summer they're here, earning a living doing something they love. But, come the end of September, they pack everything away - all the little one-man dinghies, kayaks, windsurfers. Then they jump on their yacht and sail south to a little corner of the Caribbean where they open another sailing school for the winter.

Their children, who are home-schooled, are fluent in Catalan, Spanish and English and seem to be up to speed with everything else too. Moreover, having spent their lives around lots of other people who've come from the four corners of the Earth for sailing lessons with their mum and dad, they've got loads of social confidence.

I'm a rubbish sailor, and I'm sure I'd die of sea-sickness on the journey, but there's a part of me that envies them their lifestyles and admires their courage in choosing the path they've chosen. I think it was no less of a thinker than Confucius who said: do what you love and you'll never have to work a day in your life. And this couple appear to be the living embodiment of that philosophy.

So on those cold, grey winter days that lie ahead I'll think of them following the sunshine and doing what they really want to do, and I'll try to draw inspiration from their example.

All the best for now,

Bonny x

The sewing bee ...

Isn't it a lovely thing to be able to take your work out-of-doors? Especially on a nice sunny day it seems wrong to stay inside when all the world is bright and cheerful and the sky is a heavenly blue above.

The other morning I came upon this rather unusual sewing bee, all bent over their labour in the bright Catalan sunshine. They were busy mending their nets with huge needles and big balls of nylon thread. Some individuals in the group were very practised, their needles flying in and out, and back and forth, like automated bobbins in a machine.

And, as is the case with any group of friends when they're working on a shared endeavour, they chatted amiably as they sewed, looking up occasionally to see how their neighbours were getting on or how they'd reacted to the last wisecrack that had sent a gentle ripple of laughter floating out to sea.

And then I noticed that I wasn't the only spectator. This chap was standing at a discrete distance from the group keeping a careful eye out for anything tasty that might tumble out of the folds.

Luckily for him the harbour cat was elsewhere - probably terrorising some unsuspecting tourists who thought the harbour would make a scenic background for a few selfies. The harbour cat is an animal that you mess with at your peril - hence the absence of photographs of him on my blog. I've never had the courage to stand still and take his picture when he's launching himself at us like a furry orange missile with his fangs bared and his claws unsheathed.

All the best for now,

Bonny x

Boys ...

Today I spent the day with Emi and one of his best friends. We played tennis, we went swimming and after lunch we did some rock pooling. Everyone wore their flip flops, which made clambering over the rocks a  bit difficult. Duh! I should have known better. It must have been the heat that was melting my brain and leaving me incapable of making rational decisions ... . I mean I'm normally quite good at keeping all the children in my care alive and in one piece.

Then, just as we were struggling over a particularly large boulder and I was feeling less than up to the task, I saw these boys doing this:

Moonlit Sant Feliu de Guíxols ...

Tonight there's a party in town. It's La Nit en Blanc, when nobody goes to bed, and everyone's out and about, meeting and greeting and partying like summer's never going to end.

Emi and I took the Wonder Dog for his after-dinner stroll along the waterfront. It was a perfect night with scarcely a breath of wind, lit up by a huge round moon that hung low in the sky. Everyone was out. Laughter and music from other people's parties drifted through the air. The lights from the village danced across the waves as we walked along the breakwater.

Emi told me about a story that he wants to write. It had the sort of labyrinthine plot that appeals to nine year old boys who desperately want to bring dinosaurs back to life, and then mix them up with some aliens and a spot of extraterrestrial exploring. I'm sure I didn't follow it all, but with the special magic of the moonlight on the water it was hard to concentrate on the details. I think I said Really? and That's interesting enough times to convince him that I was listening attentively even though my gaze never left that wonderful August moon.

All the best for now,

Bonny x

Harbour tails ...

The Wonder Dog has a nemesis down at the harbour these days. He's a great big ginger tom cat, and he takes no prisoners. When he sees us he comes racing out of the shadows hissing and fussing and squaring up for a fight. The Wonder Dog, who is more of a lover than a fighter, hides behind my legs and tries very hard to be invisible. I do a funny little sideways shuffle to work my way around the ferocious feline without getting my legs shredded or my dog massacred in the process. I'm guessing that this particular moggy's got a good supply of dinner in the form of left-over fish, and he's not about to start sharing it with anyone any time soon ... .

We trot on trying hard to look like we're not bothered. Although the truth is that I'm always a bit too shaken by the mad cat experience to take a photo of him. I mean he's really scary. It's a pity as he'd make a very fine photo with his back arched, his fur standing on end, and his lips drawn back to give us a clear view of his razor sharp teeth. But it's like he's possessed or something, and, as I can't predict how he'll behave, I always chose the safer option and hurry on past him to the relative safety of the inner harbour. 

By the time we reach the life-savers' cottage on the top of the hill we've recovered our composure. It's a sweet little building. These days it operates as a museum about life-saving along the Costa. Here in Sant Feliu they used to make buoyancy aids from the local cork. They'd fashion them into great cumbersome jackets that would have helped keep people up, but must have made it almost impossible for them to move through the water in the direction of their rescuers. 

We normally meet a standard schnauzer up there these mornings, who's a great deal friendlier than the ginger tom. He makes the Wonder Dog look like his Mini Me.

Well, I'll be schnauzered!

The cottage was built by the Shipwreck Rescue Association back in 1897 as a place of shelter for anyone who was shipwrecked off the coast of Sant Feliu. 

Local men volunteered their time, taking turns to do their bit to help those in distress. Being a sea-faring village the focus here has always been on the seaward, rather than the landward horizon. Everyone would have been able to empathise with the plight of those in trouble and would have held a sincere wish that, should their situations ever be reversed, someone would come to their aid too.

The cottage sits on a small cliff at the mouth of the old harbour, so the folk up there would have enjoyed a good view of everything that was taking place round about.

Back in the old days the fishing boats would have been landed on the beach, where they would have sat waiting for their next expedition. These days the beach looks very different.

And, thankfully, we still have a few lifeguards around.

All the best for now,

Bonny x

So what's the story?

This chap greeted me on my way home on Monday evening. I was walking back from the Convent of Sant Daniel, just outside the city walls of Girona when I spied him, towering large on the side of a building and looking for all the world as though he was suffering from the mother of all hangovers.

On reflection though, I think he's been dancing a Sardana, the traditional dance of Catalonia that originated in this part of Empordá. He's certainly dressed for the part. It's danced in a circle with everyone holdings hands, and my guess is it's all left him feeling a little bit dizzy ... .

All the best for now,

Bonny x

First thing in the morning/ last thing at night dog walks ...

The Wonder Dog is always sitting with his paws crossed first thing in the morning and last thing at night, so my day tends to start and finish with a stroll to give him a chance to do what all well trained dogs wait to do outside ... .

Here in sunny Sant Feliu de Guixols on Spain's Costa Brava we live just above the harbour, which is where I usually take him on these outings. I'm a lousy sailor, but I love the idea of messing around on boats, so the harbour always draws me in. Added to which there's something very special about how the sunlight plays across the water in the early morning and late in the evening. It gives me a real sense of a beginning and an ending, which neatly bookends my day.

Our village fishing fleet includes some pretty big boats, and some not-quite-so-much-to-boast-about boats.  I'd really rather not put to sea in this little barcito. To my landlubber's eye it looks like a floating bathtub.

Yesterday I had to go to Figueres, where I stopped off to see my old friend Dalí. Did you know that he's actually buried in his museum up there? Weird! Anyway, I digress. All this Dali-in-the-sun stuff and these boats in dry dock (below) were starting to remind me of his long-legged elephants. Does anyone else see it? No, just me, eh? Ahem, I think I can hear the men in plimsols and white coats pulling up outside ... .

On our way we pass a bank covered with the most wonderful purple Morning Glory, which is strictly off limits to the Wonder Dog for any leg-lifting type activities. 

Yesterday in the late afternoon there was scarcely a breath of wind. The sea was like a mirror and, as the shadows lengthened, the reflections were perfect.

Emi came along and did a lot of talking about how he'd really like to learn how to fish. This was his Spanish side talking. When you go to the beach out here with a bucket and spade none of the other children are very interested, but should you chance to bring a half-decent fishing net you'll be the toast of the shoreline and everyone will want to take a turn at trying to catch something. 

We walked past some children who were armed with rods, nets and a catering size mayonnaise tub in which they were keeping this little chap. He doesn't look like he'd be much of a dinner for anyone. Emi was full of admiration. I just hoped they'd gently toss him in again. 

On warm, balmy evenings like this it's hard to believe that September is just around the corner, bringing with it a return to school and all our usual routines. I so don't want summer to end. 

But already this place is emptying out a little. There's a gentle, but perceptible drift back to work and the city. It's getting easier to find a space to park in town, and there aren't quite so many people stretched out enjoying the rays on the beach during the heat of the day.

We still have a healthy population of seagulls for company. They're a raucous bunch. They all congregate on certain blocks of the breakwater, leaving other blocks totally empty. I think they're having a bit of a gossip, catching up on each other's news and just generally chewing the fat.

And then, on our way home, we walk past the scary chap below.  I know it's not a good thing to draw on other people's walls, and I really shouldn't encourage that type of behaviour - especially if young Emi is anywhere within earshot, or reading over my shoulder. But you have to admit this little guy is rather charming in all his naive simplicity, and the wall that he adorns did look a bit cheerless before he showed up.

Anyway, look who's trashed the sofa and is demanding another walk ... and he's a very hard chap to say no to. 

All the best for now,

Bonny x

Catalan Harvest ...at L'Horta de Can Patxei

The other day we went for a long lazy lunch with Mr B's family. They're a fun bunch who enjoy their food, and can be totally guaranteed to choose a good restaurant. My brother and sister-in-law live, who just outside of Pals, suggested we go to Can Patxei, an arable farm with a restaurant added on for good measure.

The food, the company, the ambience and the vino were all fabulous. I'd make a rubbish restaurant critic as I always have too much fun to break off and take photos of the food and analyse exactly what they've put on my plate. Suffice it to say that it was all super-delicious, very tasty, traditional Catalan food.

But what I really enjoyed was seeing the fruit harvest at close quarters. After we'd all over-indulged at the table we went for a little stroll around the farm. Just feast your eyes on the grapes:

The 900 year-old Tapestry of Creation, Girona Cathedral ...

Yesterday I walked through the Treasury of the Cathedral of Santa Maria in Girona. It's a building that I know well and love dearly. In its treasury are some rare and wonderful things, but one of the most impressive is the Tapestry of Creation. It is a thing of great beauty; a true survivor that amazes not only by its antiquity, but by its size and complicated iconography. It combines the story of Creation with the cosmography of the calendar and the history of the Legend of the True Cross.

It's also a thing of mystery. They think that it was created for use in the Cathedral, and they believe that it was created somewhere within the city of Girona , but they don't know what it was used for, who made it, or where exactly it was woven and embroidered.

La Fosca ... and the Castle of St. Esteve de Mar, Costa Brava, Catalonia

Yesterday we met up with a bunch of friends for a long, lazy lunch at one of our favourite restaurants, the Hostal La Fosca. We enjoyed some fabulous food and a good catch up, and then everyone headed for the beach. The children had their hearts set on an afternoon of messing around on pedalos, the grown ups wanted to stretch out in the sun and chat, but something else, the ancient castle of St. Esteve, sitting on the near horizon caught my eye.

La Fosca with the Castle of St. Esteve de Mar in the background

High on the ancient walls of Girona ...

Girona is our local big town out in Catalonia. It's a fab little city that gets a bit overlooked, standing in the shadow of its big brother, Barcelona, just down the Costa. But if you're looking for somewhere with a history that predates the Romans, with fortified city walls that have lived through 25 sieges over the course of their long history, good food (we've got El Celler de Can Roca, the world's number one restaurant in town), loadsa' museums and architecture to swoon over - well, this little city could really hit your sweet spot.

It's a place that's bustling with life and activity where Emi, the Wonder Dog and I spend many a leisurely afternoon strolling around, people watching, imagining the past, admiring the present and all the while enjoying a good ice-cream. Weight-watchers beware: they make some seriously good ice-cream in this part of the world.