Day 113
In three weeks time I was looking forward to relaxing on a beach in Barbados with an extremely large glass of rum punch watching bikini clad females drip their way out of a turquoise ocean.
At least, I was until today.
The current Mrs. Snowman got back from work and gleefully informed me that the tickets had arrived for our holiday. Initially I was delighted to hear this news until she casually dropped into the conversation that rather than going to the Caribbean, she’d changed her mind and we’d be spending a week in Majorca instead.
Before I had a chance to respond, she countered the body blow by saying that the Caribbean trip would still go ahead but not until October. Under normal circumstances, changing the destination would not be a problem but those of you who’ve visited this delightful Mediterranean resort will understand my trepidation.
The main priority of a holiday is to go anywhere that is devoid of screaming brats and loutish teenagers whilst providing a relaxed environment in which to kick back and take things easy for a few days.
The one thing I can state with near certainty is that it won’t be achieved.
A few years ago I made the mistake of going there and found myself surrounded by…screaming kids and loutish teenagers.
Before I receive any letters of complaint from the Spanish Tourism Board, I should point out that the problems don’t stem from Majorca itself but rather from the visitors that go there every year…
…and I’m going to be in a hotel full of them…again.
However, I have to be philosophical about it.
I shall not have to endure Small Child or Surrogate Daughter for a week and the mother-in-law with be remaining in the UK. The hotel has a pool, the beer is cheap and the bar stays open all night.
Maybe it won’t be so bad after all.
One thing I am looking forward to is the inevitable trip to the pharmacy when we get there.
Unlike most English speaking people, I try to learn the language of a country I’m visiting to at least an elementary level. Not only do I consider this to be a common courtesy but also far more importantly, it opens up all sorts of wicked avenues to amuse myself.
Foreign pharmacies are usually top of this list.
For example, last year in Portugal I was in such an establishment when a really obnoxious individual overheard me chatting to the assistant when I was buying some antihistamines for Mrs. Snowman. He rudely interrupted our conversation and told me to ask if the salesgirl would get him some ointment for a heat rash.
No problem.
I politely explained to her that he needed something to alleviate his anal herpes.
The next best is going through customs when leaving the country.
We’ve all been on a holiday where we’ve meet a family who stick to you like glue for the duration of your stay. They usually have at least one child over which they have no control and spends most of its time picking its nose when you’re trying to eat. No matter how hard you try to avoid them, you always seem to be sitting next to them in a restaurant or bump into them on a shopping trip to a local town. Even if you take a two hundred mile excursion to the most remote part of the country you seem unable to shake them off.
A word in the right ear at the airport can usually ensure retribution and at the very least their luggage is scanned twenty times and they’re taken to one side for a rudimentary interview. If they’ve really pissed you off during your break, you can contentedly arrive back home safe in the knowledge they’ve been thoroughly searched and had a finger or two shoved up their backsides.
Speaking of retribution, I think the poker gods were getting more than a little revenge during today’s tournaments.
I entered two $2.20 events and played for a total of five and a half hours…and missed the money both times; the first one by twenty-six places and the second by just nine. So near and yet so far.
I’m not the kind of player to sit back and be content with being placed somewhere low in the field, I try to win it and therefore still play my hands even when everyone else is folding hands in order to make the cash.
In many respects this makes me indomitable, determined…and a fucking idiot.
Tomorrow I shall try to avoid the idiocy and make the money regardless.
The other thing that gave me cause for concern when the wife was explaining her new holiday plans was to ask several un-nerving questions regarding the state of my health. She assured me it was only to confirm the insurance for our trip but I was more than slightly worried when she told me how much she would receive if I accidentally lost a limb when we were abroad.
It wasn’t the glint in her eye that made me swallow hard but her enquiry as to if I’d ever considered tasting the Spanish culture first hand and have a go at bullfighting.
Oh shit.
Starting bank: $0
Current bank: $4.14
At least, I was until today.
The current Mrs. Snowman got back from work and gleefully informed me that the tickets had arrived for our holiday. Initially I was delighted to hear this news until she casually dropped into the conversation that rather than going to the Caribbean, she’d changed her mind and we’d be spending a week in Majorca instead.
Before I had a chance to respond, she countered the body blow by saying that the Caribbean trip would still go ahead but not until October. Under normal circumstances, changing the destination would not be a problem but those of you who’ve visited this delightful Mediterranean resort will understand my trepidation.
The main priority of a holiday is to go anywhere that is devoid of screaming brats and loutish teenagers whilst providing a relaxed environment in which to kick back and take things easy for a few days.
The one thing I can state with near certainty is that it won’t be achieved.
A few years ago I made the mistake of going there and found myself surrounded by…screaming kids and loutish teenagers.
Before I receive any letters of complaint from the Spanish Tourism Board, I should point out that the problems don’t stem from Majorca itself but rather from the visitors that go there every year…
…and I’m going to be in a hotel full of them…again.
However, I have to be philosophical about it.
I shall not have to endure Small Child or Surrogate Daughter for a week and the mother-in-law with be remaining in the UK. The hotel has a pool, the beer is cheap and the bar stays open all night.
Maybe it won’t be so bad after all.
One thing I am looking forward to is the inevitable trip to the pharmacy when we get there.
Unlike most English speaking people, I try to learn the language of a country I’m visiting to at least an elementary level. Not only do I consider this to be a common courtesy but also far more importantly, it opens up all sorts of wicked avenues to amuse myself.
Foreign pharmacies are usually top of this list.
For example, last year in Portugal I was in such an establishment when a really obnoxious individual overheard me chatting to the assistant when I was buying some antihistamines for Mrs. Snowman. He rudely interrupted our conversation and told me to ask if the salesgirl would get him some ointment for a heat rash.
No problem.
I politely explained to her that he needed something to alleviate his anal herpes.
The next best is going through customs when leaving the country.
We’ve all been on a holiday where we’ve meet a family who stick to you like glue for the duration of your stay. They usually have at least one child over which they have no control and spends most of its time picking its nose when you’re trying to eat. No matter how hard you try to avoid them, you always seem to be sitting next to them in a restaurant or bump into them on a shopping trip to a local town. Even if you take a two hundred mile excursion to the most remote part of the country you seem unable to shake them off.
A word in the right ear at the airport can usually ensure retribution and at the very least their luggage is scanned twenty times and they’re taken to one side for a rudimentary interview. If they’ve really pissed you off during your break, you can contentedly arrive back home safe in the knowledge they’ve been thoroughly searched and had a finger or two shoved up their backsides.
Speaking of retribution, I think the poker gods were getting more than a little revenge during today’s tournaments.
I entered two $2.20 events and played for a total of five and a half hours…and missed the money both times; the first one by twenty-six places and the second by just nine. So near and yet so far.
I’m not the kind of player to sit back and be content with being placed somewhere low in the field, I try to win it and therefore still play my hands even when everyone else is folding hands in order to make the cash.
In many respects this makes me indomitable, determined…and a fucking idiot.
Tomorrow I shall try to avoid the idiocy and make the money regardless.
The other thing that gave me cause for concern when the wife was explaining her new holiday plans was to ask several un-nerving questions regarding the state of my health. She assured me it was only to confirm the insurance for our trip but I was more than slightly worried when she told me how much she would receive if I accidentally lost a limb when we were abroad.
It wasn’t the glint in her eye that made me swallow hard but her enquiry as to if I’d ever considered tasting the Spanish culture first hand and have a go at bullfighting.
Oh shit.
Starting bank: $0
Current bank: $4.14