The reason for my appointment was simple enough: my ears are blocked up, to the point where I've lost quite a lot of hearing in one of them. Having assumed that this issue would fix itself, in the way the body generally seems to, I arrived at the point where I could hear nothing in my right ear when I got up in the morning. Not good. So I went online and booked an appointment. Everything was going very smoothly.

Until, that is, the nurse called me in to answer some questions about my health and lifestyle. Physical dimensions baffle me: I never remember how tall I am or how much I weigh. Similarly, I've no idea when I last had a tetanus shot. I told the truth about how much wine and beer I drink, and how many cigarettes I smoke (about 5 or 6 a day, to which the response was "well what's the point, then?"). Then she said she'd take my blood pressure. Ah....

The truth is, I was pretty sure I had high blood pressure anyway. I'd probably been avoiding medical checkups partly because I suspected I'd be told something like this. So, yes, she took my blood pressure and frowned. "Have you had your blood pressure read recently?", she asked. "Not for ten years or so," I replied, "Why? Is it very high?". "Not very. But it's high". She took it again to confirm the first reading. It was the same (I'm so bad at this kind of thing, I have no idea what the reading was). The upshot is that I have to go next week and the week after, to properly confirm the result... not that there's probably any need.

The funny thing is that this coincides with a general feeling since I turned 30 that I probably ought to be taking better care of myself. A tasty sandwich every morning, as much coffee as I could stomach, bread and salt as staples... I knew I'd have to knock all of this on the head sometime. But I hadn't really bothered to do anything until the nurse told me what I already knew. So here's my resolution: less salt and bread, more exercise, healthy cereal or yoghurt for breakfast, bacon and eggs (and any type of fast food) only an occasional treat, pâte, foie and embotits in minuscule quantities, decaff when possible, tea without milk in the morning, etc etc.

My ears can be cured with boric acid and some other drops (and yet another visit to the nurse and her pliers). My blood pressure is something I accept that I should manage better now, rather than suffer from later on. My youth, an age of carelessness, is replaced by a bit of responsibility. The worrying thing is: I'm quite happy about it. There must be something wrong with me.

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If I find the time, I will try to write some blog posts soon about Cerdanyola's toxic dumps, Asbestos, Linguistic immersion ("it's finished" or "nothing has changed", depending who you believe), Recent events in London, Why the PSC is the worst political party in the world (or at least Catalonia) and more...

I wish you all a merry winter festival and a holy new year. 2011 is going to be big... you wait and see.

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And I've switched Facebook off. It's time to disconnect. Comment moderation has been enabled.

Fins aviat!

tombcn.com - my blog posts about travel, books, food and music

tombcn.com - my blog posts about travel, books, food and music

I'll hopefully be able to post a couple of times over the weekend.

Tom

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Gemma and I are beginning the process of looking for a new house. Our awesome little flat in Cerdanyola del Vallès was perfect as a starting point for our life together here but 7 years on, it's not getting any bigger. We're looking in Cerdanyola, because we like the area where we live. But we're also going to look at places in other parts of the metropolitan zone. This thebadPoll is really very simple: where would you choose to live in BCN if you could choose right now? Do you like the narrow streets of the Gòtic, or do you prefer the seaside charm of Vilanova i la Geltrù?

The list of options is not exhaustive, so feel free to recommend a place if you really think it needs a special mention.

As usual, you can vote on the right >> ... but it's your comments I'm hungry for.

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And so it falls to me to be the moody expat loser blogger (Trev is better but he never says anything).

First topic: off to Modbury ('el poble') next weekend. Not much blogging will ensue. Still alive, though.

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I make no apology for using Twitter. I do apologise for dissing it in the first place, because it can at times be great. Much of my time on Twitter has been spent obsessively checking my 'hetero rating' on a website affiliated to Stockholm Pride, an event that kicks off next week. This fun little toy works by analysing one's tweets and every time I check it, I get a rating of '42% hetero'. Apparently, this is because I use the words 'Barcelona', 'coming out', 'opera', 'available' and 'ass' in my tweets. These words make me a 'hybrid hetero' and lend support to the argument for 'an extra orientation'. Sounds fine to me, except for the words selected that indicate my degree of hetero-ness.

Barcelona has long been gay-friendly and the unofficial Gayxample district contains plenty of hotels and bars which cater mainly to the gay market. But it's not an exclusively gay city. Indeed, I'd say it's probably predominantly not gay. But I may be wrong about that. Opera, as well as being often incredibly camp musical theatre, is the name of a web browser. Ass? Well... I can't really explain that. I may have been calling someone a loser ass or something. Or perhaps I was talking about ass, but that might possibly have been be hetero ass.

I shall spend the next few weeks tying to increase my hetero rating. I'll use manly terms like 'muscles', 'bear' and 'trade'. That should fix it.

Oh, and we also went to Cotlliure in Northern Catalonia (France as the nationalists would have it), a couple of weeks back. It's a lovely place, but I recommend visiting out of season if possible. Photos here.

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Last night, with an indoors temperature of 30º and level of humidity that a fan would not shift, only direct, we elected to put the air conditioning on all night. It was a simple enough decision. Gemma turned to me and said "I think we should put the a..." but by then, I'd already closed all the windows and found the remote control for our air-con unit. We continued to watch Star Trek: First Contact with the pleasant, and pleasantly guilty, feeling of cool air caressing our youthful skins. (Well, Gemma has a youthful skin; despite being YEARS younger than her, mine has developed the reddish hue and blood-vesseled texture of a Plymouthian living in Spain**).

We slept right through the night with barely a stir, except for when it got too cold. One of the many advantages of sleeping with the air conditioning on is the fact that it's cooler when you want to sleep. Another advantage is that while you have the windows closed, all but the most ingenious mosquitoes are barred from entry to your boudoir. A disadvantage is that any cigarette smoke from the sitting room that wasn't expelled before the airlock was sealed becomes your 'smoke buddy' for the night (though this probably helps some people maintain a minimal nicotine blood level and for that reason it should probably be counted as another advantage). There are no other real disadvantages... unless everyone does the same. Because that would cause massive amounts of carbon to be released into the atmosphere, by way of electricity generation.

So I ask you, people of Barcelona, Toulouse, Marrakesh, Los Angeles, Singapore, Perth (Australia, obviously) and Mumbai: tonight, switch your air conditioning off. I won't, because I need it. But if you took some time to think about the future of the planet, you would.

__

* I refer to moths as 'the devil's butterflies' and mosquitoes as 'the devil's moths'.

** I was born in Freedom Fields

*** Obviously the title could have been "Dr. Coldlove, or: How I learned to stop worrying and love the aircon" but I decided against it

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I suppose that there are a handful of species of birds that feast on mosquitoes at this time of year. But I'd be happy to put up with, say, 20 species of birds gone for all eternity if it meant no more blood-sucking Culicidae bothering me and millions of other people each year. I mean, if we're going to make species extinct, surely it could serve some greater good?

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If you've never been to an official penya (they exist for most football clubs but around here they're predominantly F.C. Barcelona-affiliated), these official supporters' clubs are often the finest places to watch a good football match, provided you back the penya's team. You need to make sure you get there early, though. For the second semi-final, I got there over an hour before kick-off and barely managed to snag a couple of stools in the non-smoking area (shock, horror!). For tomorrow's game, I've booked a table in the smoking area - three years ago, I did the same thing, and when I offered my name, the owner simply shook her head and said 'Els estrangers', 'the foreigners'. This time, she at least admitted she knew me and allowed 'Tom' to go on her bit of paper. We'll see how well this works out around 8 tomorrow evening.

I'll avoid predicting the outcome of the game because my hope that Barça will win is far greater than any knowledge I'd ever profess to having of the game. Suffice to say: I reckon it'll be hard for both clubs, and while Man U may be favourites, I do think that Barça can win it.

And if they do, it'll set off a great long weekend of celebrations. Because while I'll be in the office the next day, whatever happens, Thursday night sees the start of Primavera Sound - Barcelona's pop festival and officially the first party of the summer (well, that's what I always say). The lineup is pretty good, and this year I'll probably be aiming to take in a few newer bands I don't know so much about (any recommendations are welcomed). The festival runs until Saturday, but even better news is that Monday is 'second Easter', meaning we get another day off! Skill!

So it could be a brilliant few days or just a very good few days. And you can't say fairer than that.

Força Barça!

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After my brief violated sulk, I went through the process of filling in the online denuncio, going to the local police station and picking up my new cards at the bank. But these were the easy steps. Because my residency card was nicked, I now had to carry my passport around if I wanted to pay by card anywhere other than the small and excellently stocked  privately run supermarket I habitually buy wine, meat and vegetables from. I wasn't happy with this (a passport can be a real bugger to get replaced), so I essentially slipped into cash mode: something I've not done since the first time I got a card about 13 years ago.

And you know what? Apart from buying my snazzy new phone* the other day, I've certainly spent less this month than I would normally have.

Anyway, the point of this post was really to relay the news that I had a phone call yesterday from a nice lady at the Comisaría of the Mossos d'Esquadra in Les Corts to tell me: we have your wallet, with all your documentation. Would you believe it? I thought that the Mossos wouldn't have bothered investigating a common wallet theft but it seems that they had their very best, most sexy men and women on the case, sometimes working under cover.

So I have my expired Tarjeta de Residencia back and can now return to card-based [what's a word for 'of or pertaining to cards'?] profligacy. Or I can learn my lesson and stick to cash... which was, funnily enough, the only thing the thieves got when they nicked my wallet. A serious decision faces me.

__

*My HTC Magic has a great text prediction module that makes sending text messages and emails very easy indeed. However, it does sometimes change correctly spelled words for what it thinks I meant to say. 'Mossos' became 'Mississippi', automatically.

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For that reason, the blog will likely be quiet over the next few weeks. Hopefully, I'll be able to post some updates using my super-awesome-cool Eeepc 1000H but that all depends on WiFi.

Bon nadal a tothom!

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However, I sort of think that tonight will be either a draw or a Madrid win. Not sure why... just that the Clásico is often surprising. For that reason, I'll watch the game on La Sexta at 2200 and I hope for another goleada for Guadiola's FC Barcelona.

Força!

By  the way: if you didn't know already, Real Madird was founded by Catalans.

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If you're thinking about making a charitable donation this Christmas, and you haven't yet chosen a suitable recipient, allow me to offer a suggestion.

Joyce is a 16 months-old Kenyan who'll die if she doesn't get heart surgery soon... and she needs to go to the US to get it. I read about her on a travel blog site. Her story's very moving and I figure that if enough of us donate a few Euros, we could help this little girl get the medical attention she needs.

Read more about Joyce here... better still, make a donation here.

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