Day 134
Holiday - Day Six
Today it rained…continually.
I was hoping to spend at least two days getting even the slightest of tans as evidence that I’ve actually been on vacation but fate had obviously decided otherwise.
This opened a host of possibilities for enjoying some traditional holiday activities when inclement weather prevents anything that requires sunshine.
I could stay in the hotel and have a couple of drinks, I could go to Jamie’s bar and have a couple of drinks or I could combine the two…and have slightly more than a couple of drinks.
As the hotel was full of moronic teenagers I decided this was probably out of the question and opted instead for a damp stroll along the beachfront, planted myself in Jamie’s Bar and watched the rain belting down.
While sat quietly in the corner drying off and gradually working my way down a bottle of wine, I noticed several rather brave individuals on the beach. You would think that even the most hardy of holidaymakers would be wrapped up in three layers of waterproof clothing but these people were clearly made of sterner stuff.
Either that or they were completely insane.
Or from Scandinavia.
This is not a racist sentiment in any way but one formed from years of observation…
Whenever I’m on holiday, the first ones to whip off their swimming trunks and droop their bits around the swimming pool always seem to be from this part of the World.
Now don’t get me wrong, when a couple of buxom blonde Swedish girls consider that even bikini bottoms represent an infringement of their personal liberties and they remove them for a quick spot of nude beach volleyball, I’m usually the last one to complain.
However, my reaction isn’t quite the same when two pot-bellied middle-aged men let their genitalia flop about like a couple of stranded eels and its right in front of my eyes. Luckily, within minutes the local police turned up before too much damage was done to my eyesight and they were ordered to cover themselves up and given a stern warning about their future conduct.
The two gentlemen continued to play with a Frisbee for a while and were only just packing up when a very disgruntled looking wife trudged into the bar and splashed down beside me.
Now, I’m sure most of you are aware that alcohol diminishes the senses somewhat, and when a certain level has been reached, it tends to make people do things they usually wouldn’t dream of.
A prima facia example of this occurred as I drained the last remnants of the first bottle.
Mrs. Snowman decided the best way to inject some cheer into an otherwise miserable day was to find a restaurant and get something to eat.
I can only assume it was the wine that nudged me into agreeing with her choice.
“How about a nice Indian meal?” she chirped
“Great idea!”
Oh no it fucking wasn’t.
Having managed to spend the day without any major toilet incidents, this was perhaps the worst possible thing I could have done.
I didn’t make it through the first course.
Thankfully the men’s room was located close to our table but I still managed to knock my chair over as I dived for the can.
I was in there for so long that one of the waiters eventually tapped on the door and sheepishly enquired if I was ok as there was a queue of people waiting to use it.
After my efforts, I neglected to say it probably wasn’t a good idea for anyone to in there for a couple of hours.
After what seemed an eternity I managed to tiptoe out but was unable to finish the meal. The hotel may have only been a five-minute walk away but even the smallest mouthful of curry could have proved catastrophic half way back.
I’m relieved to report that I made it back to the room without anything horrible leaking from me and immediately swallowed the remainder of the Imodium pills.
By the early hours of the morning my guts had settled down to a mild simmer and I was able to go to bed with a reasonable degree of safety.
I must report that I didn’t get any sleep as I had to lie on my back, perfectly still with my hands tight against my sides and my buttocks clenched like a boxers fist.
Tomorrow I shall make a resolution to avoid all types of both alcohol and food.
And probably movement.
Starting bank: $0
Current bank: $ Not really at the front of my thoughts
Today it rained…continually.
I was hoping to spend at least two days getting even the slightest of tans as evidence that I’ve actually been on vacation but fate had obviously decided otherwise.
This opened a host of possibilities for enjoying some traditional holiday activities when inclement weather prevents anything that requires sunshine.
I could stay in the hotel and have a couple of drinks, I could go to Jamie’s bar and have a couple of drinks or I could combine the two…and have slightly more than a couple of drinks.
As the hotel was full of moronic teenagers I decided this was probably out of the question and opted instead for a damp stroll along the beachfront, planted myself in Jamie’s Bar and watched the rain belting down.
While sat quietly in the corner drying off and gradually working my way down a bottle of wine, I noticed several rather brave individuals on the beach. You would think that even the most hardy of holidaymakers would be wrapped up in three layers of waterproof clothing but these people were clearly made of sterner stuff.
Either that or they were completely insane.
Or from Scandinavia.
This is not a racist sentiment in any way but one formed from years of observation…
Whenever I’m on holiday, the first ones to whip off their swimming trunks and droop their bits around the swimming pool always seem to be from this part of the World.
Now don’t get me wrong, when a couple of buxom blonde Swedish girls consider that even bikini bottoms represent an infringement of their personal liberties and they remove them for a quick spot of nude beach volleyball, I’m usually the last one to complain.
However, my reaction isn’t quite the same when two pot-bellied middle-aged men let their genitalia flop about like a couple of stranded eels and its right in front of my eyes. Luckily, within minutes the local police turned up before too much damage was done to my eyesight and they were ordered to cover themselves up and given a stern warning about their future conduct.
The two gentlemen continued to play with a Frisbee for a while and were only just packing up when a very disgruntled looking wife trudged into the bar and splashed down beside me.
Now, I’m sure most of you are aware that alcohol diminishes the senses somewhat, and when a certain level has been reached, it tends to make people do things they usually wouldn’t dream of.
A prima facia example of this occurred as I drained the last remnants of the first bottle.
Mrs. Snowman decided the best way to inject some cheer into an otherwise miserable day was to find a restaurant and get something to eat.
I can only assume it was the wine that nudged me into agreeing with her choice.
“How about a nice Indian meal?” she chirped
“Great idea!”
Oh no it fucking wasn’t.
Having managed to spend the day without any major toilet incidents, this was perhaps the worst possible thing I could have done.
I didn’t make it through the first course.
Thankfully the men’s room was located close to our table but I still managed to knock my chair over as I dived for the can.
I was in there for so long that one of the waiters eventually tapped on the door and sheepishly enquired if I was ok as there was a queue of people waiting to use it.
After my efforts, I neglected to say it probably wasn’t a good idea for anyone to in there for a couple of hours.
After what seemed an eternity I managed to tiptoe out but was unable to finish the meal. The hotel may have only been a five-minute walk away but even the smallest mouthful of curry could have proved catastrophic half way back.
I’m relieved to report that I made it back to the room without anything horrible leaking from me and immediately swallowed the remainder of the Imodium pills.
By the early hours of the morning my guts had settled down to a mild simmer and I was able to go to bed with a reasonable degree of safety.
I must report that I didn’t get any sleep as I had to lie on my back, perfectly still with my hands tight against my sides and my buttocks clenched like a boxers fist.
Tomorrow I shall make a resolution to avoid all types of both alcohol and food.
And probably movement.
Starting bank: $0
Current bank: $ Not really at the front of my thoughts