Behind closed doors

A riddle for you, what do Barcelona, Marrakech, Auchtermuchty and Serinya have in common?

You give up ? Don't blame you, you are all busy people and have no time to waste on my nonsense.

So the answer to the link between those four unlikely bedfellows is high walls and interesting doors leading into hidden gems of courtyards and gardens.

This door is the entrance to a vegetable plot opposite the hermitage, the one that is impossible to photograph meaningfully because all that is visible is a door under a bridge. This door encompasses all that is admirable about the Catalan character, waste nothing, any old bit of wood or metal can be added in to make a barrier, don't exhibit any sign of wealth, no flash or show here, play it low key, this may and probably does give entry to the land of the wealthiest man in the village, but you would never know.

Those of you who have come to discern that my pool is shallow indeed will realise at once a desperation blip. My excuse is one of extreme time pressure today (or yesterday as I have crept over midnight), had to pick up friends arriving from Scotland, blocked loo in guest bathroom, water cut off as the water company appear to like excavating by moonlight. so a little fraught.

Away to cross my legs and chant for a while (nothing to do with the blocked loo, I hasten to add)