This weekend I went to Spain.
I watched a sheep get shaved, ate half a piglet and one of the glass birds I had brought as gifts ended up shitting itself. I got accused of being a satanist, went to a ball with general Franco’s daughter and got a ride with an 80-year-old historian who had met marshal Mannerheim. He had actually also seen Philip V in person, which is quite the achievement since Philip V died in the 18th century…
I did not go to the playa nor did I drink sangria. I watched no bullfights nor did I get burned in the sun. And the card I was going to send my mother is still in my hand-luggage.
And oh, I almost forgot. I bought a Mona Lisa. She’s fat.
It was a truly bizarre weekend.