My Friday 13th started early, at 03h00 to be precise. Boni suffered from severe digestion issues and woke me up in order to get ‘released’ on the terrace.. just in time. The same at 04h00 and at 06h00, though the 3rd time I was too late.. I sleep-walked half of the day between veterinarians and pharmacies, waiting and cleaning. To reward myself, I went down for a drink on a terrace next door. The waiter who faced me, was too busy talking on the phone, probably his girlfriend or another geopolitical urgency. After 15 minutes and several body language attempts, I gave up and went back home. As a Catalan friend uses to say: ‘you can’t complain about the service, because there is none.’ Overlooking my terrace, which had turned into a a horse fair after trading day, I wondered how they could ever run a country if they cannot even get you a shitty drink? Finally, I fell asleep, dreaming of Boni playing with mr Puigdemont’s hair in the Ciutadella Park.
