First Pair of Knockers out … Spotted
On the plane from Paris to Barcelona, I closed my eyes and imagined Spain. The sun, sangria, sundresses, brown skin and bare feet. Sweating profusely in my I-Have-To-Wear-5kg-Of-Clothin g-So-My-Luggage-Meets-Restric tions outfit, I envisioned the beach and me on it, and endless mojitos. I had to. There was no air conditioning and I was desperate. Barcelona…