Homer Does Barcelona

Bellas Flores, Belle Fleurs, Bei Fiori, Schöne Blumen, Piękne Kwiaty & Beautiful Flowers to you all. Yes, I can now speak six languages fluently. Seven if you include taking rubbish.

It’s been a busy few months since left the city of Leeds and moved to Barcelona. So, what’s happened to me since I left? Well, upon arrival I had to sort out a home and all the relevant accounts, finding a nice place was hard. I must have seen thirty odd apartments the first couple of weeks. Eventually I found a sexy pad with all mod cons unfortunately the landlord turned out to be a proper peanut. And he was short! And Spanish!! Well he was tight, so tight in fact he used to come round every day to watch the TV and use the phone!

Anyhow, he wasn’t declaring anything (taxwise) therefore would not let us register anything at the address, it was like been an immigrant, what’s more the doors which he passed off as stairs & cupboards upon viewing the apartment turned out to be two more bedrooms! That meant there were 6 people living there, all foreign or derivatives thereof. This was too many, especially with only one bathroom and kitchen to go round. With it been rather unsociable too, the apartment filled the full floor of a building so normally you would just bump into people in the corridor occasionally, as people were constantly leaving however you didn’t get to know any of them. Didn’t feel very homely at all, more like a motel. What’s more none of them spoke English either, or so I thought. There was a Venezuelan guy living there, he had only grunted at me for the first 2 months. Then, suddenly, a couple of days before I left he wanders into the kitchen and says “I hear your leaving” in perfect English. I nearly fell over!!!

I had to stay in that apartment for the first couple of months, the agency handling my contact messed up the payments, I didn’t get anything for the first 10 weeks so I had to spend every night freelancing. Kinda pee’d on my parade having to work all the time still but at least I was working in the sun which made things much better. But, I did need to find a new home, I was getting bored with the lack of banter, my Spanish conversation is limited, “Hello. Where are you from? Where do you work? Do you like eggs? Oh, I like eggs too!“. Thrilling stuff. What’s more, my jokes don’t seem to go down very well in Spanish. Not that they really go down that well in English either but at least I usually get a few groans.

So, finally I had been paid. It was time to make my exit from the big brother house. I went to the local hardware store and bought a spade, 21 metres of sturdy rope, a large bag of arsenic and 2 rubber ducks… Hang on. Sorry, that’s a different story.

Well, to cut a long story into a not-so-long story I had to be a little devious so as not to loose my bond to the tight short man. Knowing he was on the fiddle I told him my boss needs receipts for all my expenses. He told me I had to leave. Hehee, the fool. Then he tried to charge me for a cleaning lady which didn’t exist and days that I wasn’t there. But he eventually gave me everything back in a huff as I’d sneakily written instructions in Spanish about how I had to submit any losses to accounts to reclaim them and the solicitors then handle it. So I won! Hahaa, it’s like they say, you’ve gotta get up pretty early in the morning to do a milk round!

So I’m now living in a nice place, no so swanky but got cool housemates so it’s much better.

Work wise. I’m at an Interflora-type company called FloraQueen helping make the website look less 1980’s. I’m supposed to be learning to be more European and less British, I say what old chap! It’s run by a tight Israeli who thinks he knows everything but would actually suit a name like Mr. Offenrong, so it’s about as organised as a bag of sand.

I’m running late so I’ll tell ya all about the fun, frolics and fondling that’s happened in the next chapter.

Share

Leave a Reply