Saint George hangover

Yesterday was Sant Jordi, the Catalan Saint Valentine, the book and the rose, the stands and the crowds in the streets.

As always, the amount of presents received is: 0. It’s got nothing to do with being single. My exes weren’t the paradigm of romanticism—just an observation, not a bitter complaint. [You don’t insist on the importance of Saint Valentine to ignore the day when it comes.]

A day when boys get a book and girls a rose is all about sexism. No, ladies, don’t get excited; I’m not heading there. The boss of my research group bought roses for all the girls. And for the boys? Nothing. Guess how many girls complained about this discrimination…? Exactly.

If you see this, walk the other way [photo©: Ajuntament de Vilanova]

And when I mentioned it, they argued that boys get books, which is very unfair since roses are cheaper. I’m still waiting for my book from him though. There are great books for 2 or 3 euros and ugly roses for a higher price. Moreover, girls drill their boyfriends into being given both, but they never give roses.

Anyway, I strolled down the Rambles out of masochism, I guess. I actively dislike walking in the crowd, partly because my pace is fast and slow motion kills me. Whereas I enjoy events involving lots of people, when the masses prevent my advance, I feel lost.

But that’s not the worst. The worst is having students and desperate rose sellers pestering you. It’s like a man coming out of a shop and offering you a tie on Father’s Day. Should you need it, you would enter and ask. But they insist, no matter if you’re an orphan, you can surely give it to someone who’s a father.

That’s why health authorities recommend that Saint George be practised with moderation.