It has been a while I know.

I have had many requests on this blog to get back to it, where are the posts!? So I have no option but to succumb to the public and my fans (my mum) and start tapping away.

So looking back on past posts it has been since early June. I would like to give you the illusion that I have been swept away on this overseas adventure, hiking mountains, eating strange bugs, diving the depths of the ocean, learning new languages and busking away on a guitar I found. Nope. Sorry. I have been flat out in a corporate job, in over crammed London trying to seek the sun.

Ok, ok it has not been that bad. Seriously it hasn’t, I am just becoming a whining POM. But I have to admit as I wrote the words in the above paragraph, some of it is actually true.

June was a dark month for being summer. I also turned 32. I still do not believe I am 32, I am 23 in spirit and the heart. We slopped through the month, with a huge amount of rain and still in drought, olympic fever was starting to grip London. Panic was encroaching the city. What about the transport, there will be TOO MANY people here. With a city of millions a few more for a few weeks ain’t much!

We had some more visitors, a couple we know from Newcastle, Australia stopped back in after their European trip. I was green with envy as I have had a lot more responsibility dumped on me at work, which also meant a bigger work load, no European escape for us. Clive gave them some more Clive Sisley Patented Walking Tours of London, I worked. I did go and see the Damien Hirst exhibition at the Tate Modern. For all his flack, I loved it. It was tops. People say “Oh he is over priced and commercial”, so what if he wants to make a few bob whilst he is alive. I don’t see people coming up to my dad, who is a brickie, “Look mate, whack us up a BBQ and front fence and I will give you a meal, later when you are established and dead it might be worth something”, just because someone is an artist does not mean they cannot make money from it or that it is taboo to do so. Anyway it was tops, a real tops show.

So after that…more work, more work and bloody more work.

Then early July we had a holiday booked for Majorca, but it is written Mallorca and pronounced “may-ork-ah” otherwise you are a tourist. Mallorca is part of Spain in the Balearic Islands. Home to John Lennon’s ex wife and Julian Lennon’s mother.

For a Spanish place it was full of Brits, Dutch and Germans. Every second place to eat or drink was an English Pub, with English food and English staff. We boy-cotted them.

We stayed at a nice place with a self catered apartment in Cala D’Or. We had a pool and 3 beaches to choose from. Beers were 2 euro a pint and came with free tapas. We drank a lot, ate a lot, slept a lot and swam a lot. When we first arrived we realised we forgot (Clive un-packed it) the keys to the paddocks on my bag. Funnily enough we had a handy man turn up, spoke little English and asked if everything was ok with our room. We demonstrated that our bag was locked and needed something to bust off the locks, this lovely Spanish man busted open those bad boys in 3 minutes flat.

We explored the area we were staying, it was great. nice and small. But like idiots we never went over the hill until the last few days and there was a whole another village there. We are smart.

We made some friends at the local cocktail bar (they free pour drinks there so it was always good value for 5 euro) and Clive got up and sang “Back in the USSR” at the karaoke, he was really good!

We also played mini golf everyday, it was hard to sleep the whole afternoon. Basically everything closes from 2pm-5pm. We would have a quick nap and head to putt putt, grab a Mojito and let the night find us. I was great on the front 9 bad on the back 9. I think it had something to do with Clive constantly giving me drinks around the 7th.

We tried another course later in the week (one we found over the hill) but it was mission impossible, hand-made out of cement and bloody tough!

We also played a lot of pool. there was one around the corner (60m) from our room and we played at least 3 times a day they also had 2 euro pints of Estrella and they let us practice our appalling Spanish on them. Oh and we also played a lot of air hockey.

These activities all occurred between mornings at the beach. The beaches are coves, so there are no waves. Also covered in topless women, which was not that great as some were moby dicks. Most Brits did not believe in sun protection as they were “Getting a base down”. They would be red raw, blisters on blisters and still lying out in the sun. We went through 2 big bottles of cream and had big hats on.

We took a cruise one day and when up to a small fishing village and walked around. We swam off the boat in the ocean. Now I am scared of everything, except snakes and spiders. I actually went down the slippery dip into the ocean. It was fun and the water is an amazing blue hue. Clive floated with the fish.

I did get nervous when the big boat crossed paths with another big boat just so they could get a picture for their promo stuff with a small point and shoot camera. I thought it was the Italian cruise ship catastrophe all over again.

Another night we went out for all you can eat ribs in the extra touristy area. Clive had 4 lots, I had fish.

We read a lot too, we always had a book with us.

So since we have been back, we have been working away and trying to save the pennies for our parents visit in September. We are going to Scotland, through England, maybe a bit of Wales and then to Paris. Followed by a battlefields tour in Belgium at Ypres. it will all be FANTASTIC.

So mum….how was this for a post?

Oh also the Olympics have arrived and the City is quite, lots of extra tickets on sale and not much Australian athletes being televised, but I guess we are in England, so that makes sense.

Until next time…..Enjoy it all xx

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