Chapter 4I wake on Sunday morning to the sun streaming in through a c***k in the curtains. It is early, but already warm. I can hear Patricia moving about downstairs. She is singing and her sweet voice is melodious. Every so often, I hear her scolding our dog Ollee, who is obviously getting under her feet. I know, even before I descend the stairs, that there will be pans of fruit bubbling on the stove as she prepares her preserves for the market. Next weekend is the bullfight feria in the neighbouring town of Céret and people will travel from far and wide to attend.
Being north Catalonia, we have a tradition of bullfighting in our region. It used to be a very popular event on both sides of the border, but recently Spanish Catalonia has banned the spectacle. We in the north have benefited
