No place like Home

FOR WHAT SHE IS ABOUT TO RECEIVE, MAY THE LORD ...

The boys jumped out of bed and greeted their bemused dog, presenting him with a "desayuno" of stale crisps and  flat Coke, which he declined and darted off across the road to Jean-Luc's cafe, where he felt the menu would be more to his taste. After the briefest wash and brush up in Carmen's miraculously restored loos, Ry checked the time on his brand new iPhone - one of a number of high tech gizmos he'd treated himself to, out of some of his redundancy money. "It's not quite twelve, yet, Better give her a couple of minutes to put her face on. "Couple of hours, you mean" said Sergi, buzzing the Atico of Number Fifty Four, an extremely classy old edifice, recently refurbished regardless of cost, by the look of things (not unlike Ms Kettlewood herself).

Eventually, a wheezy voice croaked "Not today, thank you"
"It's only us, Glo. Are you decent?"  "Come up and see for yourselves, darling" She pressed a switch to open the downstairs door.  A sleek, noiseless elevator beamed them up to the sixth floor.
Sergi was impressed and not just with the building.
"Wow, Glo. You look fantastic"  "Well don't sound so bloody surprised"
Gloria was wearing a chic, pale blue two-piece, Statement High Heels  and what might - just possibly, have been a wig; definitely a Big Ticket Wig, though. A Designer Wig, likely as not.
"Love the barnet" said Ry.
"Well darling, I do let my hair down occasionally. It's let me down often enough"
'We expected to see you in an old robe, at this time of day" laughed Sergi.
"And a bottle of gin in me hand, no doubt!  So - would you like the Grand Tour - or just the X rated highlights?  Step this way ...

Ry looked around in amazement. "Is this your kitchen? It enormous. You could cater for an Army in here "  "Now don't put ideas into my head. Anyway, I've always been a size queen, as you  know.
She led them through to a rustic dining room, crammed with antiques.  "God - just took at that table" said Ry. Gloria nodded. "Yes it's from the refectory of an ancient monastery in the Pyrenees. I was on a Retreat, at the time. Or maybe it was a Pilgrimage. Whatever. But I really coveted it. At first, the Head Monk wouldn't sell. He said "My child"
how about that - "My child?" "There are some things money can't buy"
"So how did you manage to change his mind" Sergi wondered.
"Well dear, I OFFERED him something money can't buy"
"And did he take it?"
"You bet. Right here on this very table, actually - well, they don't get out much, poor souls"
But he drove a hard bargain. Told me it had been blessed by Mother Teresa. I said I don't care if it's been blessed by Mother Goose, I want that table.  Seats twelve.
"Apostles?" said Ry."Hey - you could have your very own Last Supper on that"
Gloria frowned. "Let's see how yours goes first, shall we darling? Oh, by the way, how are you
on gardening?"
"Gardening?"
"Yes - come and see mine. It's on the roof"  She led them to an ornate spiral staircase.
"You go up first, darlings. I've got no drawers on"
In the hot afternoon sun, Barcelona shimmered beneath them.
"Look - there's the Sagrada Over Familiar, Icon of the city, god help us. Disney on Acid.

Sagrada Disneya

And if you come over here, see - there's your actual Mediterranean"

But it was the surprisingly "English" green of the sixth floor lawn that captivated Ry. Surrounding it were several small palm trees in big tubs and
bourganvilla in colours ranging from deep purple to bright orange. There were hanging baskets of petunias cascading over borders of geraniums and to complete the picture, white parasols shaded a couple of tempting sun loungers, to one of which, Sergi succumbed.

"No time for that. You should have got your shut eye last night, instead of allowing yourself to be ravished by an Englishman abroad"

"Bloody cheek" muttered Ry, as Gloria led them back down the spiral staircase and into a whole new world ...



It was an eventful Autumn at "Que Tal" Mario upped sticks, joining his foxy lady at her home in Manchester, where he now worked in a Canal Street pub. His place was seamlessly taken by Sergi
who not only proved popular behind the bar but gradually established himself as Barcelona's answer to Jamie Cullum, mixing classic jazz and pop on a funky Baby Grand which "Mine Hostess" bought specially for him to "kick the shit out of" as she so eloquently put it. Jean-Luc offered his sophisticated chansons, while Gloria's risque intros developed into a fully fledged stand up routine of a decidedly adult nature. Meanwhile, Ry (the frustrated movie director) expertly shot and edited these riotous nightly recitals and 
posted them on YouTube. And while they didn't exactly go viral, they spread an infectious rash among their flock of camp followers.

Que Tal's customers and its bar takings were increasing week by week - as were the venue's outgoings.
Never one to scrimp on what she regarded as Essentials, Gloria had invested not only in the grand piano
but also in the latest high tech sound and light systems, extravagant furniture and fittings for the Bar and had a couple of walls demolished to "open the place up" She paid her staff more than handsomely and 
never appeared in the same stunningly chic outfits more than once.
Then slowly and painfully, she came to realise that the figures were't exactly adding up.
But what the Hell ...



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