I don't like company bosses appearing in their own TV adverts... and in particular I don't like James Dyson, who if I remember rightly placed great emphasis on British inventiveness and then closed up shop and shifted manufacturing abroad somewhere. Anyway I digress... what I wanted to say was - Who in their right f*cking mind would pay £300 for bloody vacuum cleaner!
You can't beat a Domino's Sizzler... the only problem is you are guaranteed the "Ring of Fire" effect the next day!
I caught N watching this TV programme on my favourite channel E! the other day... I had vaguely heard of it but didn't know who the hell "The Kardashians" were. So out of idle curiosity I watched a bit of it. Jeezus - what a load of old crap. Jointly masterminded by that American prat with the stupid name - Ryan Seacrest, it features a vile family called the Kardashians which comprises of a collection of unpleasant women whose names all begin with the letter "K". The husband (some ex-decathlete) from the 70's looks like his face has been plasticised, the wife is a retard and the main daughter has one claim to fame which is apparently appearing in a dodgy bit of video available on the Internet. The programme is 100% sh*t!
Just over a year ago I ranted about idiots wearing blue tooth earpieces whilst walking around supermarkets. Well okay I know I am repeating myself but last Saturday whilst perusing the wares of M & S you've guessed it I clapped eyes on some prat walking around the freezer section wearing one and not only that he was talking to himself asking what he should buy. How I prevented myself from ripping it from his ear and ramming it up his left nostril I don't know.
What has this bloke got to do with car insurance? I can appreciate clever adverts and oddball connections but this is plain stupid...
N and I went and saw Dirty Dancing last Thursday at The Aldwych Theatre. We both thought it was considerably better than Grease (not difficult). Okay it isn't particularly my cup of tea but I found the performances pretty good and the dancing was impressive to say the least. Of course the audience cheered at that famous line and the following legendary dance routine. Mind you when I squinted through the binoculars I thought Baby looked a bit weird.
I don't like Zara... that is I don't like the clothes shop Zara. N first had trouble with them at a branch in London when they refused to honour an "incorrect" price on an item she wanted to buy. And then in Barcelona we discovered you ideally need a form of ID even when you are using chip and pin in a clothes shop. Note I said "in a clothes shop". Restaurants, metro tickets, tour bus tickets... not a problem. But clothes shops - Nope you need a form of ID. N got round it in two other shops but - NO - not Zara. Personally I would have told them to shove it up their arse and never go in one of their poxy shops again - but N capitulated and paid in cash.Dinner was at a restaurant just off of La Rambla which seemed to be run by four Spanish prats and a dwarf... but it was good, which was what mattered!
And that was it. The next day we grabbed the bus back to the airport and arrived at least 10 degrees colder back in London.
Next day the Red Route took us on a tour of the North part of the city including Goudi's incredible Sagreda Familia which apparently won't be finished until 2030. We bought tickets to go inside but passed up the 1 1/2 hour wait to take the lift up one of the towers. Instead we marvelled at the magnificent tree like columns which stretch upwards to give the effect of a forest. Goudi's architectural design is based on nature and is highly original however after looking around the museum I can't help think that as amazing as it is - it is a monument to one man's vanity and not actually a temple/church/cathedral.
Barcelona of course staged the 1992 Olympic Games and on Day 2 we jumped off the city tour bus to take a look at the stadium. We actually thought it looked rather small and I never realised it was a renovation of an older stadium.
Barcelona - it was the first time that we metBarcelona has a confusing airport. When you disembark from a British Airways flight at Section A of Terminal 2 you discover that your luggage makes it way to the baggage reclaim at Section B of Terminal 2... or was it the other way round? Anyway we cocked this up well and truly and after asking a member of airport staff we found ourselves inadvertently on the wrong side of security... minus our luggage. After asking a couple of times how to get back we were told we had to go back through the metal detectors and scanners etc. which of course meant we had to explain to each official what we were trying to do. Curiously this didn't surprise them and it wasn't long before we were back at the correct baggage reclaim and low and behold found our suitcases almost on their lonesome. I say almost because as it turned out we weren't the only ones to make the mistake. We met a woman with a baby who had done exactly the same thing!
.
After this momentary hiccup we decided to get the bus to the city centre as it was cheaper than getting a taxi. Miraculously we found the bus stop and bloody 'ell there was a bus waiting. The only down side were the 5,000 people trying to get on it and of course being on the Continent these Mediterranean types don't believe in an orderly queue and were just barging their way on to it. N went ahead and bought the tickets off of the driver whilst I staggered aboard with the cases and whilst she sat down I stood guard at the middle exit. The next 30 minutes were spent hanging on for dear life and having to listen to some cocky Spanish girl chatting to various passengers (loudly)... I was very thankful when we eventually arrive at Placa de Catalunya which is the central meeting hub of the city of Barcelona.
.
Rather than trying to work out where exactly the hotel was and brave the Metro we decided to get a cab and it was a mere 10 minutes or so later that we arrived at our hotel. We were checked in by a rather sombre looking bloke called Oscar who seemed to spend all his time staring at a computer. Our room was on the 5th floor and was pretty large and very comfortable.
.
As we hadn't eaten yet and time was getting on we went on a scouting mission for a restaurant in the immediate area. Easier said than done. We walked up the street some way and found a place that looked like it would fit the bill. Now I get rather irritated by restaurants that ignore you when you are waiting to be seated and of course this one fell into this bracket. Normally we would walk out immediately but as eateries were thin on the ground we decided to stick it out. At last we were shown to a table and given menus (in Spanish). We had a go at picking out what we wanted and waited and waited. The waitress came over and asked us if we were ready to order and N asked if anyone could speak a bit of English just so as we could check what were ordering. The waitress went away on the pretense of getting someone. Of course she clearly didn't bother and we were naturally left waiting. In the end we got up and walked out. No one even asked us why we were leaving. Total tossers. I hope this a*sehole restaurant falls victim to the global recession and the w*nkers go bust...
.
Now very hungry we wandered back to the hotel to see if we could have dinner there. Again we waited and waited. Clearly being seen by members of staff we were totally ignored. Spanish customer service at this stage was hitting a rating of 0/10 at this stage in my brain. After a couple of foul expletives muttered under my breath we left to look for somewhere else.
.
At last we found a cafe (we had walked passed it earlier) and sat down at a table outside. We were served promptly and the meal was fine (rating increased to 6/10). After a glitch with the chip and pin credit card we walked the short distance back and went to bed.
.
To be continued...
