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.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.