The Man Who Lives Upstairs.

It’s been so long since I wrote my last proper blog post that I’m not even sure where to begin.

As I’m sure you can imagine, my life has been a whirlwind of adventure over the past few weeks. I left Barcelona for a visit to the place I like to think of as my Spanish ‘homeland’, Galicia. A 10 day break away from Catalonia did me the world of good, as it’s always nice to get out of the bubble I find myself in between teaching my English classes, the masters and the flat.

The flat in particular had been in troubled times before I left. Trouble caused by… the Man Who Lives Upstairs.

I’ve mentioned his snoring before. Loud enough to wake me from upstairs, the snorts forced me into shutting my window and enclosing myself in the muggy summer air to have any hope of an unbroken sleep.

Then there is his refusal to answer the phone. How it is that it seems the MWLU has his bed and his phone directly above my room, I don’t know. And how it is that people continue to ring him despite the fact he never, ever answers just baffles me. I feel like it’s personal. Perhaps he plans it, alternating between snores, rings and opera in a deliberate attempt to infuriate me while he cackles madly from above.

Anyway, the week before last, things had worsened. Not content with the work he was already doing to annoy, the MWLU upped the ante. I awoke one morning to find the flat without electricity. After deciphering the trip switches it turned out the kitchen lights were to blame, and after ringing the electrician, it was revealed the problem was a leak coming from… where else, but upstairs!

It seemed the plot had thickened, and the MWLU was now pouring water through the floors in a mad attempt to leave us without electricity. He knew exactly was he was doing. The electrician tried to get in contact with him, but MWLU doesn’t open his door to strangers. The only option was to get in contact by phone. Which he, naturally, refused to answer.

Cooking in the dark with an unsolved leak over my head, the endless ring of the unanswered phone meant that I just had to have a break from Barcelona.

You won that round, Man Who Lives Upstairs.