And I meet someone charming.
I've never really had a good time with ladies - either they're air heads or I'm not interested for one reason or another. I live in england you say ? Yes well, that'd be a factor since the television generation is really not my thing. And I hate the idea of dating sites. Meat markets!
So I'm waiting for the queue at my boarding gate at Barcelona airport to thin out - and a beautiful girl sits down next to me. I'm reading, but I notice.
She joins the queue once it's shortened. Ha ha. It's like she's trying to break herself in to the british world of queueing with a small taster. Little do we know what is down the passage since I join the queue a few minutes later behind her and quickly pass through the gate, only to find myself in a queue to get into the aircraft itself. I'm getting my own gentle reminder of the world to which I am returning.
Anyway, This one had it all - looks, charm, half spanish. She was writing, perhaps the ultimate attraction for me because it's a rarity these days and I already tend to find women who read attractive. You can be as pretty as you like but if you haven't got a creative mind, why would I bother ?
She had a light blue hoodie that was part linus blanket, part garment. She got it out during take-off and held on tight - I almost broke out laughing. Ah, too cute.
During the flight she gets out a big a4 notebook and starts writing. Writing story ideas she said later.
I get to speak to her on the way through Gatwick - we had a bit in common being part spanish. She had been mushroom picking with her dad in the hills of Casteldefells over the holiday. She blogs a bit and intends to start getting some stories published one way or another. She blogs about working in a lighting shop (or lamp store, I couldn't determine the difference). We discuss a few other things such as our relative spanishness and the paths to Santiago de Compostela.
We pass through passport control together and up to the baggage collection bit. She follows me up until this point, she intends to catch a train - and she has no baggage to collect whereas I have a relatively heavy one and had planned on catching a cab - I say Adios and have given her my card. She walks away.
I never took down her details.
And so my childish regrets start, namely, with me spotting my bag one minute later. Wondering whether I should have taken the train with her. Or offered her a cab ride (no idea where she lives) - this might have been too imposing anyway.
The cold of England was a shock. I'm now laid up sick, feeling sorry for myself, and wondering whether I blew it on the onset. I doubt I'd ever find the lighting shop and get an answer to 'got any half-spanish girls working there?' or get a name out of Easyjet..
Shamelessly sentimental, I know, so does anyone know of a young lady who works/worked in a lighting shop in England (London, I assume), who is half Spanish (Catalan), has literary and blogging inclinations and just got back from Barcelona at the start of October 2008 ?
Maybe she didn't think I was worth getting in touch with. Maybe she lost the card. Without getting too Amelie about it, I just didn't want to leave it to chance. I reach out into the blogvoid and put the facts I do know into the open. And no, I've yet to find the blog.
