Pushing end of term, or rather being dragged towards it, I had the usual attack of wanderlust to fly the hell out of Dodge and seek Easter rays!
Found myself googling tons of last minute holidays. Luckily, or so I thought, a cheap deal to Arrecife, Lanzarote with a bungalow. Me – in a bungalow by myself! Marvellous!
The night before travelling, I woke to a howling akin to a Hammer House of Horror flick. An almighty storm had taken over the bedroom. I lay in full-blown panic attack mode, as I had three hours to go before my flight. After an hour, I tried to block it out, but to no avail.
The storm continued to blow. I mean, B-L-O-W-! I trawled through all the things that could go wrong. For example, the roof being torn off, the cabbie not making it, missing the flight, or the plane plummeting into the drink.
Anyway, I got up and started getting ready without looking outside. But dawn wouldn’t stop taunting me through the slatted blinds.
In a matter of seconds, I tugged the blind cord to see fence panels strewn all over the place, like that old TV show — It’s A Knockout! Quickly, I dropped the blind and paced.
Then the mobile rang, so I gulped coffee, not tasting the bitterness, and went outside. With great relief, I checked my watch, five-thirty, as planned.
En route to the airport, we drove through a scene from Armageddon! Trees, branches, bins, and debris tossed all over the roads. Eerily silent for a Monday morning with almost no traffic! Thankfully, it only takes half an hour to get to the airport.
On arrival, we were greeted by a clogged car park with police redirecting traffic in droves. The cabbie thought it’d be a good idea for me to get out and walk. I didn’t agree as I’d paid for the door-to-door service!
Anyway, I soon snapped out of my funk after realising we’d only inched along and were no closer. Reluctantly, I dragged my suitcase inside at six twenty-five.
When inside the airport, I discovered the flight had been delayed owing to tempestuous Katie’s grand appearance!
After a long while, I joined the queue and watched people watch people. In particular, a traffic-stopper with legs for days in a snug micro-skirt and gold knee-high gladiator sandals with stiletto heels.
I thought a few things. (1) Wished for her confidence! (2) RAGING. STORM. (3) Men: Conceal. Need. To. Feed. Or. Die. At. Hands. Of. WAGS.
After getting to the departure lounge, I had another wait with people sprawled across rows of seats, then had to keep getting up to see if the boarding gate showed.
Some three hours later, we boarded. I had an aisle seat with extra leg-room. After buckling and relaxing, the plane bumbled its way up into tempestuous Katie’s arms. I prayed, prayed and prayed some more throughout bumpier moments of the four-hour flight.
Eventually we arrived in Arrecife and found the transit to the hotels etc. Other people’s hotels seemed plush, but when we got to mine, crikey!
Strangely enough, my hunger seemed more of a concern. I dragged my case in, registered and waited for it to be taken to the bungalow. They kindly informed me I had to walk some miles to take it myself! I was like, what?!
Then she turned into the living Sat-Nav and started spewing machine-gun directions. Through a fine red mist, I asked for a map.
I trundled off with my suitcase making a racket all the way. As I walked the path through the bungalows, I had my ‘This Is Your Life’ moment, saying a hundred hellos to everyone sat outside on their balconies catching the last of the sun.
Ever so resourceful I made a mental note to find another route, which I did much later — a short cut through a hedge outside my bungalow!
Anyway, finally got to mine, and to be honest, homely fit the description. I put my case inside and shot back for dinner.
White Hot Hair
The restaurant reminded me of ‘Allo ‘Allo!, albeit without Rene or the gags! White hot hair seemed to be the ‘in’ thing! After a while, they stopped gawping and concentrated on chewing and swallowing.
I started to wonder if I’d made the right choice. I mean, where were the young-ish and funky? Quickly, I ate then set off to explore. Found the bar – again, a bit last chance saloon-ish.
Then discovered I could only get WI-FI outside the bungalow (it was almost darker than midnight!) and in the bar. Seriously?? You can’t tell someone like me with an overripe imagination something like that!
Anyway, I took my beloved IPAD, sat in the bar and had hysterics watching Martin Lawrence and Russell Peters et al doing stand-up comedy on YouTube.
Soul-warming sun cascaded while BBC News kept Brits updated about tempestuous Katie’s havoc in the UK.
Getting my priorities straight, I’d made sure I’d gathered and packed my cache of slingshot bikinis.
Being the great sun-worshipper, I spent the first day getting absolutely toasted and ultra-tasty! Even the IPAD couldn’t cope with the heat and shut down!!
A member of the WHH brigade came over to commend me on how chocolate-y my skin etc. Everyone else just stared, maybe puzzled about me lying in the sun.
Late one afternoon, I returned from od-ing on Vitamin D and consulted the massive, full-length mirror. I can assure you it was no Snow White moment.
I mean, I’m all-the-way athletic (with a few fried dumplings thrown in for good measure!) but reasoned my bikini strings could use help with the load!
In full Rigsby mode (the episode in ‘Rising Damp’ where he fancied he could beat Phillip at boxing) I squeezed into shorts and scaffolding – in the form of a real tight sports bra, and started with a series of push ups, press ups, squats and lunges.
But this wasn’t enough, was it? I, who hadn’t road-run for donkeys, decided to take it there. I thought I’d have a leisurely jog down the hill and be back in time for dinner!
But as I approached the hill, a big-assed truck steamed towards me, bearing down on a little man running in front of it. The driver could’ve fried an egg with rage the way he honked his horn.
The runner shouted, ‘vamoose, vamoose.’ And the truck seemed dangerously close to him, so I shouted, ‘vamoose, vamoose.’ We stared at each other and laughed. As the truck sped away, we carried on laughing and fell in step, running alongside the beach towards the airport.
As we ran, he told me he came from North Africa and ran marathons for a living. I mean, won medals (all verified by Google!) etc. Also, he ran twice a day, every day in preparation for an upcoming event!
The Great Run
Plodding along next to him, a minute part of me felt Humpty-ish! He just seemed so light on his feet! And this guy persisted in talking! I mean, I’m generally good at multi-tasking, but not the talking-and-running-at-a-quite-pace thing! In the space of twenty or so minutes, we’d managed to exchange a decent amount of information about ourselves!
When we got to the end of the beach, we stopped and stretched. Then sat on a boulder and gazed across the horizon. We chatted until the fiery orange orb kissed the water tips and disappeared.
Afterwards, we jogged back. Waving him goodbye, I shut the door, kicked off my trainers, lay down on the floor and closed my eyes…