I am suffering a serious amount of inner turmoil. One side of me wants to yell dramatically “Why oh why does no one obsess about Madrid?! Why did no one tell me about this incredible city earlier? Why is it not mentioned when people discuss Paris or Rome as one of the best cities in the world?” and then continue to sing its praises until I am forcefully stopped by some spoil sport. Yet, on the other hand, there is a Gollum-esque side of me that greedily wants to keep Madrid all to myself, to keep it my secret (my precious) so that it doesn’t change and I don’t have to share it.
As happens sometimes in life, an opportunity presents itself that is just too good to pass up, even if it does mean other priorities may need to take a back seat. It’s true it was the last weekend before Christmas, it’s true I hadn’t started my Christmas shopping and it’s true that if I failed to deliver the gifts I’d promised, every relationship I had, family or friend, would be hanging by a very loose thread. But what the hell, when you are provided with the chance of a trip to Barcelona and Madrid, luxury hotels and first class travel, all expenses paid and the odd gourmet meal thrown in for good measure, Oxford Street can wait.