* Anon

As mentioned in that there last post before I had a bit of an episode, myself and Himself were away on holliers recently. We decided to head off for a week in the sun as our 2007 Valo's Day thang... so we went from 04^th - 11^th Feb. As you do. One of the other lads in Himself's office was going skiing the week of Valo's so we went the week before - the week after it would have been mid-term break and sure everywhere would just have been full of childer, no good at all.

Anyways, we wanted a bit of sun and a break from culture [I'm still working on the Rome post... one of these days!], somewhere that there'd be no pressure to go trekking around looking at historic or iconic buildings and sites, somewhere that we could just completely chillax and just arse around without feeling that we were missing out on anything as a result.

Somewhere, we decided, was Lanzarote.

When asked by colleagues and friends where we were off to for the week, I said we were going to: Lanzagrotty.

I blame the Holiday Snob that I work with for that: you know the type, she only ever goes to the back arse of Calcutta or Nigeria for her hols and seems to think that it’s just not a holiday unless there’s a risk of cholera/malaria/whatever you’re having yourself. She’s a bad influence, I tells ya! Anyway, I feel just terrible about it now. I mean, Lanzarote is actually (a) very clean and (b) very beautiful once you get away from the neon lights of the Puerto del Carmen strip. Even just turning your back on the tack-fabulous shops and looking out to sea across the beach is a start.

We hired a convertible for three of the days we were there [an Antigua - or "blue" - Opel Tigra Twin Top, ooooooooooeeeeeeeeoooooww] and drove all around the island which was loooovely loooovely and fortuitously afforded me the opportunity to be a total poser in my biggest sunglasses with the top down. I also got to practise my Spanish on the peeps in teeny remote villages. They kept trying to engage us in conversation with their fluent English but I was having none of it.

The weather was great, roastingly hot and sunny - so much so that I treated myself to two days of just lying in the sun catching up with all the scandal in gossip mags. It was a great holiday, practically child-free and so relaxing... aaaaand then we arrived into Dublin Airport where we* had to hunt for the car at half one in the morning in the freeze-y rain and the howling wind. Surely one of these days we will be so on time for our outbound flight that we will actually have a split second to notice where the hell we've abandoned the motor! Maybe the same day that I finally finish the post about Rome...

* i.e. Himself - I was, obviouslement, ensconced in the shuttle bus shelter ;)