The English Rose Knows: City Breaks
Romance is anything but dead. For this Rose at least. My Sunday began as I always prefer – large coffee, larger selection of newspapers – but hang on, who’s knocking on my door at this time? Only the most eligible usher from last weekend’s wedding, Mr H. “Barcelona. You and me. My plane in an hour.” All proposed with a bunch of roses, of course.
60 minutes to take off gave me minus 5 minutes to pack. Evidently he doesn’t know women. But I’ve had practice. Practicality first – you need a take-you-anywhere trouser. These jacquard beauties roll up and emerge crease free from customs. A halterneck top makes me cocktail hour ready but they also work with any of my print tees for gazing at Gaudi (and Mr H). Likewise silk dresses are a must for walks down Paseo de Gracia (the city’s Bond Street) then dancing until dawn. And in this city, they really do. The night only begins at 2am. So sunglasses are a must, and lots of them. The same goes for bikinis – they pack up so small I can take one for each day. I’ll fly in a flash of neon sweater to keep me warm and have a Nomad tote by my side.
All zipped up and ready in the time it took Mr H to walk to the corner shop and buy me the June issue of ELLE to read on the plane.
He looks impressed. Just wait till he hears my Spanish.
The English Rose x