First no smoking day in the pub. Only one person lit up as he walked out. Signs all over the place. I had a couple of vodka shots courtesy of Dorian, to go with the salmon slices I had provided. Then I went on to have a delicious duck and rice dish for lunch.
Above is my friend from Barcelona, Juan. He and his wife, an ex-hooker, run a little bar. They are very enthusiastic about jamon of all kinds, and bullfighting. They work quite long hours, interspersed by Juan and his pals disappearing into the loo to snort some coke. By the end of the evening he and his friends have drunk industrial quantities of booze and are high as kites on cocaine. At around midnight he sometimes invites me to go to a meal with his friends in Badalona, in a tiny cafe which does very good seafood, and someone singing and playing Sevillanas. We get into the Mercedes,speed off and I think my last moment has come as he drives like a complete lunatic to the restaurant where we enjoy crabs, prawns and other seafood with the music. I am almost sliding down to the floor with fear as we make the return journey, Juan fortified by even more alcohol.
From time to time Juan and his friends disappear together to go to the 'beetch house' i.e. brothel, in the afternoon, usually when drunk and under the influence of various drugs. On more than one occasion they have returned, sober and chastened, an hour or two later, having been relieved of their money.
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