come fly with me......
I never envisaged it would start like this. My year of being brave……
The text was very short, only a few words; ‘it was a pleasure’ Oh really?. It wasn’t feeling so pleasurable to me at this moment. It felt wrong, very wrong, but was equally so very right. How contradictory. Story of my life. So far.
‘R’ my ex had dropped me off at the airport, and I had thanked him by text. Too painful to pick up the phone and actually speak. I’d been acutely aware that I was leaving as ‘Mrs’ but would be returning as persona non grata……’Ms’ The ‘R’ had left my life not only in title.
So here I am now sitting in row 4, seat c, an aisle seat, due to my propensity to need a toilet with increased frequency when I’m either on a flight or fearful that one may not actually be in the vicinity! I’m on a flight to ‘Shagalluf’ or Megamuff as I’ve heard it not so affectionately called, fairly recently. My rationale in taking this flight to a place I’ve only ever properly been to once before (and have to say was rather unceremoniously thrown out of a bar, at aged 35 and for the most serious crime of laughing…. oh yes, that too is a crime in the oh so politically correct Magalluf) is that I am on the run…..
On the run from the dreaded ‘D’ word. D I V O R C E
Finally after only a few short months, and at the insistence of ‘R’, the absolute has become final and surprisingly for me under the past circumstances, simply cannot bear to be ‘home’ for the finale. So have cowardly made my escape for a few days of sunshine. Magalluf simply can’t wait the arrival of La Diva……
Okay, AKA Mrs Grumpy from Ampthill as I’m sure to become known over the next few years.
Having been to this quite lovely hotel only a couple of weeks previously, I knew what experience I was letting myself in for, and was quite happy to contemplate going alone for a few days. Yes, I know I said I’d only been once before, but I did say once properly. By that I meant for a period exceeding 72 hours in which there was some semblance of normality. This is about how long I endured the flamboyant and erratic charms of Truly Unruly and Hairy Fairy in Magalluf 12 days previously. 73 hours would have pushed my endurance training to the limit….indeed, the musical interlude and dulcet tones of Max Bygraves blaring out on the journey home from the airport in the car, was almost welcome relief. Well, until the happy pair joined in. I am neither a pink toothbrush…nor blue toothbrush. Thank God my toothbrush just buzz’s!
There are always ‘incidents’ whilst with the happy twosome, and in those 3 days they were going to pack as many in as possible. It started even before we arrived at the airport for our imminent departure.
The pair of them had decided to have spray tans. Now I must tell you that they have a combined age of circa 135, and they’re feisty, game, birds. However, I wasn’t quite prepared for the sight that was presented to me. The ‘dark tan’ option was chosen. Suffice to say that on arrival at check in, with me in the middle, we could’ve passed as an Oreo cookie. And that was whilst they were fully clothed! On arrival at the hotel and subsequently undressed, I discovered that THIS time they had at least remembered to lift up their breasts whilst being sprayed……………
On the subject of the hotel, well, Truly had booked and paid for this little jaunt as a ‘treat’ for us. For this I’m very grateful to her, for her wonderful gesture. A taxi had been booked from the airport to the hotel, only to find out it wasn’t actually a taxi at all, but a shuttle bus with 17,000 other holidaymakers to Megamuff for the weekend. Along with ‘Rodders 2011’ stag party, in fluorescent yellow specially designed T shirts. Del Boy was nowhere to be seen. Probably at home counting his money from sale of said T shirts. An executive decision is taken to take a ‘proper’ taxi, at extortionate cost of €34, because at this rate we’ll arrive at the hotel at 11am the following morning and miss both dinner and possibly breakfast…
The taxi took us on a beautiful journey, very scenic. We didn’t require scenic, we wanted quick and cheap to Cala Vinas. It cost €50 not the original €34! Bastard. We troop down into hotel, rather peeved at being shafted, but took it on the chin. Truly checks in, only to be told by surly Spanish receptionist that they don’t have a booking for us! See steam appear from ears of Truly….. “but we need dinner, surely we’re not late for dinner?” she enquired rather forcefully. “But madam, we have no reservation for you. Can I see your ticket?” Fumbling in her copious handbag, and mumbling incoherently under her breath, whilst Hairy and I are doubled over with laughter at the impending predicament, that’s actually not funny in reality, Truly finds what she’s after and hands surly Spanish woman the paper. ….
“Sorry madam, but you’re in the wrong hotel”
“What the f*@&k , are you sure?”
“Yes madam, This is the Sentido Cala Vinas. You need the Barceló Cala Vinas….it’s the other side of the bay”
We all looked at each other and then Hairy and I laughed raucously as we watched Truly’s voluptuous curves wiggle their way back out of the hotel in disgust!
We’re now in need of yet another taxi to take us to the other side of the bay! And this was just the start of 72 hours of mayhem, room changes, Truly mooning her ample arse to the whole audience assembled around the pool, and an incident at the airport on our return that’ll have the Spanish postal service bemused for many years……
And so, after the 3 witches of Eastwick episode, this private little jaunt, ALONE, was very much-needed. Recuperating from several ailments, the last of which was a very painful and humiliating public display of shingles (developing nicely whilst on holiday with Truly & Hairy). Not the nice conventional shingles, but an incredibly painful and awkward version….on my face. Grotesquely affecting my right eye, cheek, scalp, ear and neck. I nicknamed myself Quasimodo for the duration. I had the looks, and most certainly had the hump. I was housebound for 10 days. I’d read tales of permanent paralysis to the affected side of the face, and of course, with my previous medical history and now, paranoia and hypochondria, it was of course going to affect me in the most terrible way possible. It didn’t. Lesson no.1 – Do NOT GOOGLE ailments! (I’d have liked to upload a picture at this point, but you’d never revisit if I did….)
Prior to departure, I’d written on my hotel request that I was disabled, and as such required a room relatively close to amenities, and away from the ‘animation’ stage. Having frequented this particular establishment only a couple of weeks before, I kind of knew where I’d like to have been….or should I say where I wouldn’t want to have been. I thought I had all bases covered. Oh how wrong can you be!
Room one. Couldn’t possibly have been any further away from ‘amenities’ (restaurant/pool/bar) if they’d tried. I think it might have actually had another postcode, and was almost certainly in the hotel next door. I took a little look into the room, especially after it had taken me 15 minutes to walk there, and a little voice in my head was saying err…..NO. Only this voice wasn’t so little, but loud and sarcastic, in a kind of “computer says no” kind of voice. My computer was saying no, with a ctrl, alt & dlt!. I now had to attempt the 15 minute walk of death back to face the wrath of the ice maidens at reception.
What is it with Spanish women? Why do they have this superior look about them when dealing with anyone English. Or maybe it’s just that I don’t understand any of the other languages that they’re also being condescending in? Anyway…..
Arrived back at huge, impersonal reception desk and the look on Benita’s face, with the rising of one of her eyebrows said enough, before her lips moved ‘oh dear god, grumpy woman is back…lets’ make her day’. I attempted to smile sweetly when she said “Is there problem?” I replied, “I’m sorry to say but yes. Unfortunately it’s just too far for me to walk several times a day and you had actually been notified of my problem” “oh signora, we have no notice of this”. So I produced a perfect copy of my booking receipt on that wondrous invention, the iPhone, oh those fabulous people at Apple, I LOVE you! Signora Benita doesn’t hold the same opinion though, I doubt.
I’m duly allocated a second room after much remonstrating from ‘Benita’ that the hotel is full and allocated. Oh, this room “has a view” and it’s only slightly obscured by a wall, she excitedly tells me……. The first room had a ‘view’. Directly over the children’s play area. Okay, so it’s a view and it’s certainly not going to be busy in the evenings, but it’s not the kind of view I was expecting as a single, soon to be divorced, disabled female, holidaying alone for the first time.
Arriving at this second room I notice that the curtains are drawn. It’s almost 5pm but I think its safe to draw them back. I’m hardly going to be blinded by the dazzling beauty of the scenery (I’ve been here before!) But I really wasn’t quite ready for what I saw. Nothing. Well nothing other than a sheer rock face! I kid you not, a sheer rock face within touching distance of my hand. You couldn’t even tell what time of day it was as there was barely any daylight visibly coming into the room. Benita’s words were ringing around my head ‘slightly obscured by a wall’ !!!
- Room with a ‘view’…..
If there was a competition for ‘the’ worst hotel view, I’m sure that barring a view over the bins of some seedy place in Bangkok, or overlooking a known alley of drug dealers in Vancouver, this was really going to take some beating! I decided to stay for the night, but I was a force to be reckoned with, and I reckoned that by morning my force was going to be about a force 9 gale.
Gale swept to reception (well limped quite pathetically, and in considerable pain) later that same evening, fuelled by morphine, diazepam and anger. Any two of those are a dangerous combination, but the three are pretty lethal. I ‘politely’ told them to move me in the morning or I’d unleash the hounds. Whatever I said had them quaking in their little booties, and in the morning had 2 Senors to attend to my whims and move me to my third and FINAL room….oh yesssssssssss. With a rather lovely view of the beach, a little stream, and away from the bloody animation stage that raved till early hours of the morning, at last it look liked I might be able to enjoy my few days. Oh I’m going to be that cantankerous old woman that wears purple……
I kidded myself that I’d eat healthily whilst on this little break. The ‘new’ me. So far I have already stashed 4 packets of Haribo squidgy sweets, a bottle of Grey Goose Vodka, and a bottle of Prosecco, and I’m only on day two. Oh, and I forgot the Cadburys buttons that I got for half price on the flight on the way out .Yes they were the giant ones…in a giant pack too. I’m feeling ashamed as I write this. Well, I simply had to didn’t I. You just never know when you get that ‘munchie’ feeling for Chocolate in the early hours of the morning. Bloody morphine keeps me awake.
It’s a very beautiful morning and I’m sat on the beach overlooking the beautiful bay of Cala Vinas, two of the most beautiful and perfect little tanned bodies, appear. Women by the way….selling their wares, fashion, not their bodies!.
- perfect bum & budgie smuggler!
I’m sure they did a roaring trade, but can’t help thinking that they’d probably have sold a lot more if they’d had some fat bird like me limping around with a stick, showing what these articles look like on REAL women. One of the ‘Leather Ladies’ succumbed to their charms and spent a hefty €35 on a little dress that was little more than €15 in town….tut tut….
The Leather Ladies were a group of 4 very sweet, mature and very affluent ladies, who didn’t give a damn. I think they holidayed in Verbier in winter, St Moritz in Summer, had weekends in Monaco and wintered in the Caribbean. Their skin had seen a LOT of sun and not a lot of UVA protection. There is no amount of moisturiser that their very deep purses could have bought that could have rescued the damage. But they were happy in oblivion….and wrinkly leather clad bodies……
I should not have been so harsh about the prices Ms perfect bum was charging…. the strap on my swimming costume ‘pinged’ off as I was getting up to get a better view of a man in bright blue budgie smugglers (well, they’re entertainment!). Either it was a shoddy buy from a shop where I thought I’d had a bargain, or my bosoms are getting larger. Probably more to do with the amount of warm pastries that I ate at breakfast today.
Tomorrow is actually ‘D’ Day (25th May 2011). The day of the dreaded finality. I’m planning to sit on my balcony when I have the email come through, and toast to life, and the future. In reality I’ll be in pieces. A funny twist of fate….be careful what you wish for……
My quest had been to go in search of something. In a finding myself kind of way. We’re not talking ‘Eat, Pray, Love here, my style is more Eat, Shop, Sleep! I, however, had neither the time, inclination nor money. If I had, I’d have been off around the World in a heartbeat. Although going it alone and having a gammy leg has proven to be more of a hindrance than I thought it would be. Just the simple things…..
That evening I dared to venture alone into the abyss that is Magalluf. I’d gone on the pretence of buying a bottle of Champagne with which to celebrate in ‘style’ on my balcony. Alone. In reality I’d gone to get away from all the loved up couples, and families with screaming kids at dinner. I was the only one alone and all eyes looked at me….the freak who dared to venture out alone after hours of darkness. Maybe I should consider getting a couple of my teeth sharpened?
I thought I’d covered most eventualities when I packed my suitcase. In fact I almost applauded how for the first time in the history of my travels, I’d managed to pack almost a weeks worth of clothing into the allowance of a doll, with a postage stamp sized carry on suitcase. This is okay if you’re a size 8 but when you have a fat arse, EVERYTHING is twice the size.
After a €5 taxi ride into the town, It became crystal clear that I was missing a vital item of clothing. A pink sequin cowboy hat. I’ve never owned one, never want to, and never intend to. But I looked like an alien had landed in the centre of Magalluf without one (no I didn’t find one, steal one, or even try one on….just in case you were wondering!) It seemed that almost every woman that is out after the hour of 8pm has a hat of some sort donned onto her head, and a glass with an array of straws, umbrellas and plastic animals sticking out of them. God knows what concoction has actually gone into the drink itself. I dared to ask about one rather vile chocolate looking potion, and after being told the fourth ingredient, found myself zoning out and feeling quite sick at the mere thought. The victim was already in happy oblivion and I wondered how her liver was bearing up to the onslaught of the innocent looking liquid? Mind you, by the morning, my guess is that not too much of it would still actually be in her system, given her slurred speech and inability to stand still. It wouldn’t have been quite so noticeable had there been music, but at 4.00am MrMusak had long gone to beddy byes….even here in Magalluf. Yes, 4.00 am……That bottle of champagne took some hunting down…. ;)
Today is ‘D’ Day. Tis tough and even though I’m in a beautiful location, the sun is shining, and I have a future. I can’t help the tears. I never wanted this. I never wanted a divorce and I feel crushed by it. I don’t drink the champagne. I don’t feel like ‘celebrating’.
I think they’ve rumbled that someone has been eating all of the pastries at breakfast. I’m not sure what they’ve put on them but if I don’t have a bad stomach later, I’m going to be VERY surprised. The little light sprinkling of icing sugar appears like some kitchen hand has a grudge and has possibly decided to sprinkle washing powder over everything. No kidding. Everything you eat has this most peculiar taste. A kind of cross between sherbet and washing powder. My dib dabs never tasted like this! I had to opt for a ‘proper’ breakfast. Eggs and bacon. Only the bacon was actually fried ham, so I was grumpy again. I wonder if someone will nominate me for grumpy woman of the year?
- Ms Grumpy…
On my return, I’d intended in hopping on the train from the airport, but ‘R’ had very kindly offered to collect me. Strange considering our new relationship status. I wasn’t sure how I’d feel around him. It was all very pleasant and amicable, ‘adult’. Reality really sunk in and hit me over the head with a hammer when I asked how he’d felt on ‘D’ day. His emotionless reply left me cold and deeply saddened, after 13 years………”I felt nothing, it was just another day”
Onwards and upwards with knowledge, understanding and a smile…….
(And then there is Crete……..oh yes!)