Archive for September 23rd, 2012

Sunday, 23rd September, 2012

My God, I don’t believe it, this holiday is a nightmare beyond hell.

Today, we had breakfast in a café boasting the fact that you could get a “Proper English Breakfast,” I wouldn’t mind, but all the cafés do English Breakfast, in fact, most of them are run by disgruntled English people who have fled Britain to live in the sun and sweat over frying pans. These cafés are terrible, you can read a two day old version of the Sun. Christ, who would read the Sun on the day it was printed, let alone two days later, still I suppose the news is just as wrong and badly reported regardless of how old the Sun is. And of course there is the delight of page 3 – Jade, your career awaits, oh, no hang on a minute, if you have to wait til you’re 18 for your boob job you’ll be too old for the Sun. . .

The breakfasts are swimming in fat and taste terrible, and if you get there late, like we did today because Andrew insisted on sleeping in like a hibernating bear for hours this morning, then you end up surrounded by a load of clubbers nursing their hangovers and talking about how many birds they pulled (boys)

or how many blokes fancied them (girls). I don’t think it’s much of a compliment to have some drunken idiot coming on to you so that he looks good in front of his mates.

It was a nightmare, and Claire kept glancing over, hoping that someone would make friends with her and take her clubbing – they didn’t even see her. Then we had to spend ages on the beach “tanning” I said I was too hot and wanted to go back to the apartment, but wasn’t allowed to go on my own, and was told to stop moaning and ruining everyone’s holiday. . .

By three o’clock, mum and Claire were the colour of a lobster that had been hideously boiled alive. I had been sensible enough to cover up and Andrew only had a burnt nose since he was hardly out of the sea all afternoon. We were supposed to be going out for dinner, but mum and Claire were so uncomfortable with their sunburn that they decided we would just have a quiet night in and have omelettes for dinner. Good job too, they were embarrassingly red, their skin was glowing, you could feel the heat from a mile away. Claire kept comforting herself with the mantra “at least it will go brown”, I hope she convinced herself, because she certainly didn’t convince me. I almost missed my hour with Samuel, at least you could settle down and get some peace and quiet.