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Christopher Fowler
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Only one thing could mess up my travel plans. Summer dies. Autumn storms sweep in. It's still around 24C in Barcelona, but it's wild and wet, with the kind of thunderstorms that usually only occur in horror films. The local ladies are now wearing their autumn outfits, which involve padded jackets and layers of scarves. I'm typing this in shorts, mopping my forehead, they're pottering past in…
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Christopher Fowler
Posted in
Observatory
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I sometimes think I am fated to live at the heart of terrible life-changing events, always in cities caught up in change. Never having been one for a quiet life in the country, I've been too close to too many epicentres for comfort, but tonight is one that stirs the heart. In Barcelona I live beside the building above, the psychological centre of Catalunya, a converted market which houses the…
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Christopher Fowler
Posted in
Observatory
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It's 9 am. I'm on the balcony in my dressing gown, doing my 'tired face'. Got a cup of tea and a cuerno in my hands. Clear blue sky, empty street, but there's something in the air. I can hear distant shouting and then - singing. Some children run past at full pelt carrying flags. I look around at the other balconies. Red and yellow stripes everywhere. Imagine if we did that with Union Jacks in…
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Christopher Fowler
Posted in
Observatory
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Today is National Independence for Catalunya day (you're reading this after the event), and the atmosphere on the street - as always - is intensely pro-separatist. I can think of few nations in history which have flourished after partition (I think of the horrors after Tito's Yugoslavia) but it's hard not to feel the intense passion that periodically blossoms when the subject of independence…
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