Chapter 10

The flight to Salamanca was too short. Do planes fly faster when they know they’re making your life miserable? I don’t know. Lars was too busy to tell me; He had a board meeting organised in the plane and the guys were supposed to fly back to London that same evening. Way to screw up your staff just because you want tapas for diner. Up to his secretary looked at me upset. It wasn’t my idea, guys. 

As expected we were again in the same hotel, with adjoined rooms this time. I tried to sneak out of his radar but it was impossible. He had already planned a meeting with the architect and (joy of joys) the contractor.

Having survived the impression (well shock) of seeing my home totally torn out of its walls, pipes, electrical cables and tiles in many places, the architect explained me what he was planning to do. The man had simply taken over as my lack of enthusiasm for the works was understood as cluelessness. The forty-eight percent owner took over also and I was pushed aside as they both discussed -first in English to my benefit and later in Swedish- what was to be done. I was asked again about the same things as before and my choices stayed the same. I guess the architect wanted to play safe and preferred to have Lars to agree with me. He only changed one or two things and I didn’t object it. 

Everything was running smoothly, despite the heat, when my little elephant decided it had been quiet for a long time. Enough is enough, it said to himself and peed on me.