I lived for about eight years in Santander (yes, it’s a lovely city in northern Spain, not just a bank) while I was at university.
The city is full of hills. Now it’s full of escalators to go up them, but it wasn’t like that when I was there.
It is also a city where it rained a lot.
It was almost all downhill to get from my house to the centre (and to the party area, ahem). Getting from the centre (from the party area, ahem) to my house was almost all uphill. Not only literally.
On rainy days it was a challenge: a sea of water flowing against you, a sea of water pouring down on you from above, wind so that there was no umbrella to cover you, and well, it was usually four in the morning.
I often wore my Converse trainers with their rubber soles instead of wellies. I’d rather die than not be an indie.
Many times instead of arriving wet just because of the rain, I would arrive wet because I had slipped and taken a bath in a puddle. I have great memories of those moments (why do I always remember the bumps?).
I would always like to have seen myself from above as if a drone was following me – even if there were no drones like now – to see me fall. I love to laugh at myself.