Alarm went at 0345; tea and dressed and onto the bike 40 minutes later. To the airport for a 0630 flight to Barcelona.

[backstory - my elder bruv was 50 on the last day of last year; to mark the occasion we came up with the plan to visit Valencia. 1. My next youngest brother lives there 2. It's the final round of the Moto GP championship. 3. My older and youngest brothers ride motorbikes. So the oldest and youngest set off a week ago and have been weaving their way south through England, across the Bay of Biscay and onwards from Santander through Spain in a generally southerly direction. I was off to meet up with them all by way of Barcelona ] 

40 mins on the bike in 'cool' conditions, I had the bike chained up and inside. The Tartan Army were out in force but still managed a speedy run through security and lo! we were off on time. Managed to nab three seats to myself - always handy when you're tall and flying on cheap airlines...

And by 1000 was in BCN. A bus into town; and a wander around; camera out. Sunny, exotic birds squawking in the trees; I walked and photographed; had coffee and a pastry, walked some more.
Sagrada Familia was impressive. If I had more time and more money and better planning, I'd love a wander inside; but as I had a RV at 1400, I contented myself with a very slow walk around the outside. Then off into less obvious tourist bits before going off to meet blipper Basile Pesso (Anne too chummed him) for a coffee and boccadillo. 2 hours or more flew by with lots of topics covered in our conversation. Most excellent; plenty to ponder on as sadly I had to leave for a train south; so off on the metro to Sants and boarding the 1800 departing train for Alicante. 
3 and a bit hours later of quiet, smooth comfortable train travel (sometimes up to 200 kph) I arrived; my brother waiting to guide me the last ten minutes to the flat. 
The others had arrived late afternoon and soon beer was poured, dinner served and before I knew it midnight had come and gone and one final malt before I hit the hay.