November

Haiku about November

The month November,

It flew by, where did it go?

Now it’s December.

It actually did go in a blink of an eye for me, I wanted to upload more posts during what I thought would be a 'quiet' month but as life would have it, lots of things suddenly appeared and my poor Bloggington was left to fend for itself.

Notable things that happened include:

Got 2 part-time jobs.

Got rejected for 2 Grad jobs.

Rescued a poor bunny rabbit from a future of euthanasia and pie flavouring.

Visited friends in Brighton and Exeter and put down payment on a mini holiday to Centerparcs in January.

Finally got an eBay account and sold stuff (for tuppence, but at least there’s more space in my wardrobe now).

Watched giraffes at London Zoo for hours. Realised they are not the most entertaining of creatures. 

Watched and loved every minute of I'm a Celebrity Get Me Out of Here.

Completely forgot I had a gym membership so my total visits amount to 5 hours in one month. Haven't quite justified the membership fee. 

Semi-miraculous encounter with a close friend in the Boots at Waterloo station where we subsequently bumped into Lucy Benjamin from EastEnders- y'know, Lisa, the one who shot Phil. 

It's been a pretty eventful month all in all, lots of new things happening but one thing has remained the same...I have yet to find my calling in life and am no closer to moving into my own place than I was when I was 5 years old. Let's hope December brings some good luck!

Countdown

Countdown. One of the most underrated TV shows around. This Channel 4 staple may seem like the grannies favourite but I am determined to reveal its true, wondrous self to the world. My plan is to enlighten you of its glory and achieve world peace through collective Countdown admiration.

 

Your life will be better with Countdown in it

In June, following a craving for instant, mildly intellectual visuals, I searched for Countdown on YouTube and found a corker of an episode. I had picked a preliminary round in the run up to the Countdown Series Finale (yes, that exists) where contestants were battling it out to be crowned Countdown Champion (yes, that also exists).

The current leader, Jonathan Rawlinson, a 19 year old mathematics student was against Barry, a 30-something crossword enthusiast as they fought to the death using numbers and letters as their weaponry.

I knew this was a special episode when the respective words they produced in the first round were angioma and magnolia.

The fierce competition continued throughout and my senses were heightened as I waited to be blown away by their genii. 

Jonathan scores 7 in the next round with hoplite. Barry gets no points.

The third letters round is when my brain starts to kick in and I feel very smug with my 7-letter word, various. Barry only gets a 5, perhaps he was deterred by the hoplite blinder from Jonathan in the previous round. What on earth is a hoplite anyway? Barry’s 5 is roast. This amuses me. Jonathan, the increasingly apparent demigod puts us all to shame with his 7 letter word, travois.

Turns out a travois is a sledge used by North American Indians consisting of two joined poles pulled by a horse. Of course. Everybody knows that.

I am beginning to suspect that Jonathan is an alien.

But then Susie in Dictionary Corner comes out with a corker of an 8, virtuous! It’s so obvious now she says it. That’s always the case with these pesky letters rounds.

                                   

                   Angioma                                                                                                          Hoplite

                                                             

                                                                                    Travois

This game was shaping up nicely to be a good little competition. Barry was doing his best to keep up with human dictionary Jonathan, keeping on his tail the whole game.

Then, it gets even better.

The clock begins ticking, I get raison then realise that’s a French word. Then I make desire only to realise I've used my 'e' twice. Before I know it, the duh duh dah duh doo do dee doo doooo music signals the end and I have nothing for that round. Argh.

Barry says he has an 8. SARDINES! What a comeback Barry! 

Nick turns to Jonathan, affectionately nicknaming him ‘the kid’ which makes me think that if he were a cowboy in an old western film, his cowboy name would definitely be Jonathan 'The Kid' Rawlinson.  

Jonathan says he has 9. I don’t believe it. 

The word?

Anodisers.

Seriously, this guy is a genius. I am in awe of him. I make the decision to commit myself to watching every single one of his appearances despite it being 11pm at night; I will not rest until I know he has won the trophy!

Barry and Jonathan’s fight takes a turn for the worse in the next round however. Barry gets wee whereas Jonathan gets mug.

Next round, I spot alien, maybe Jonathan’s relatives are trying to communicate with me…

Jonathan comes out with labiate which perturbs me a little as I try to guess the meaning of such a word. Turns out it’s a plant from the mint family with a two lobe flower. Ah. I wish I’d never asked. Dirty Jonathan.

But can we just take a moment to question…HOW THE HELL DOES HE KNOW THAT PLANT NAME??

During the episode he has shown advanced chemical, historical, and botanical knowledge despite the fact he was awaiting his enrolment at Cambridge to study a pure and applied maths degree. You would think one specialist subject was enough but he really is widely read. And for that reason I am in love with him.

Moving on, Barry seems to be wilting under the insanely good performance from ‘The Kid’ and nearing the end, when Barry’s practically waving the white flag of defeat, Jonathan comes out with delouses from a really hard set of letters. The audience gave him a round of applause just for that. Incredible performance. Scrap the alien suspicions, he’s got to be a cyborg. Only explanation.

And then, if this whole episode wasn't enough to whet my nerdy entertainment needs, the countdown conundrum was revealed and within about 1.5 seconds, Jonathan's buzzer goes off. He's spotted the word before my brain even registered what letters were before me. 

The audience (who were mostly elderly) were not prepared for the sound of the buzzer so soon and you could actually hear a wave of collective old lady gasps in the studio. There may even have been faintings.

The Kid got the word right, it was warehouse.

So the Countdown Marathon began as I watched all of his subsequent appearances up until the actual final, and he scored over 100 points every single time. With bloodshot eyes, at 3am, I pressed play on the final episode to discover if Johnny boy finished the series victorious. 

The only person standing in the way of him was his opponent, fellow teenager Jack Worsley. It was like modern day Sparta, words were being thrown like spears, teeth were bared viciously in the façade of smiles and dictionaries all over the nation became dog eared as the two young wordsmiths came out with words such as santero and pithoi. 

                           

                                              Jack                                                                              Jonathan

                                                                  People with J names are clever

The tension was palpable, who was going to take the crown? My heart was set on Jonathan but his deserved win was cruelly stolen at the last second. Their respective points meant that Jonathan needed to get the countdown conundrum to win, and after 29 seconds neither competitor had deciphered the word yet. 

As the final ‘tick’ of the clock sounded for the crucial conundrum, I saw in that split second that Jonathan had spotted the answer, but he was too late to press his buzzer and was resigned to runner-up. Tears were shed that day.

Aside from the melancholy, perhaps you can see why I love Countdown so much; at its essence it is an entertainment show in which you are guaranteed to learn something. 

Also, I'm fairly certain that Nick Hewer actually hates people, which is fairly amusing. 

                                         

To end this post, I leave you with a delightful, seasonally apt tale that Susie from Dictionary Corner once told: How the robin got his red breast:

It goes that when Jesus was on the cross, a robin swooped down and tried to wipe the blood away from Jesus’ face so that he could see. The blood stained his breast and this explains why robins are always found on Christmas cards.

©Alex Saberi

 As a reward for those of you who managed to make it to the end of this rapturous blog post, here is a little Countdown Christmas present from me to you: Merry Christmas

Next week: Why I find watching snooker on TV highly fascinating. 

Don't worry, I won't actually write about that, but it should come as no surprise to you that I do think snooker is highly entertaining to watch. 

Job Rejection No. 7

Double Yew. Haitch. Smith.

You never got back to me. Well guess what, your stationery is too expensive so I don’t even care anywaysss. Whatever.

I don’t mean that. We could've been so good together. I love books, and your over-priced stationery, and your £1 bags of Haribo that seem to be on offer all year round. Damn impulse buys. To think of all the money I've spent on you over the years (particularly on the Stamp Collectors Stamp Kits, they’re not cheap y’know) and you don’t even care.

AND, when I checked the vacancies part of your website, weeks later, the job was still vacant! So you’d rather have no one than have me. Fine.

Everytime I see your logo shade of blue now I cry a little.

Subnote: Randomly, when I wrote this I was having a mental battle on whether to spell out the letter H phonetically as 'haitch' or 'aitch' because I'm aware that people disagree in which is the correct way to say it. So I googled 'how do you pronounce h' and this wonderful little BBC article appeared about how pronunciation is changing with generations. It's definitely worth a read, very interesting. As you can tell, I decided I couldn't bring myself to part ways with my beloved whispery 'h' so I hhhhope it doesn't hhhhoffend you hhhhorribly. 

Job Rejection No. 6

Saw an internship available at an editorial agency that deals with copy-writing, and one of the requirements was having good pop culture knowledge. Even though I didn't have some of the skills they were after, based on that requirement alone, I decided I had to go for it. I know so much useless celebrity knowledge it would be a shame not to put it to good use.

I tried to make my covering letter entertaining, or at least a little humorous, so I told them I’d done a survey on whether people would hire me, and that there was a 100% ‘yes’ response. Then in a small footnote I wrote ‘Survey comprised of two people’. HA HA HA hilarious, I know. I’d been waiting ages to squeeze that into a covering letter.

I also managed to get ‘wink wink’ in italics no less into the covering letter, I told them my brain was a sponge, and I reassured them that even though I don’t know how to use Photoshop, I am a whiz at Paint and therefore equally qualified. I then ended it on a sentence that claimed hiring me was a prophecy.

Hmm, as I write this analysis in a now unbiased manner, I do realise that what I submitted comes across so much more desperate and crazy than it did at the time. Argh, why do I write such weird covering letters?? Maybe..maybe it’s because it’s so soul destroying spending ages creating a loving, complimentary covering letter, only to get rejected time and time again; it’s safer just to make a joke one, in the hopes they have a sense of humour, rather than cry into my pillow at night with chocolate cake smeared around my mouth, doubting my self-worth.

Anyways, the final requirement was a 200 word review of a TV show. I chose to do it on Countdown. What’s not to like about that?! Who are these people!? Too good for Countdown eh?

(I've been meaning to write a blog entry about Countdown for a while actually so I’ll get started on that and hopefully show you all the wonders of this magical show).

Overall they must've picked someone else because they never got back to me. I find it really impolite when companies don’t get back to you. You take the time to fill out their application, write them a letter and whatever other twisted tasks they want you to do, then they don’t have the decency to give you a yes or no reply. Drives me mad. I begin to get a bit paranoid and start checking my Spam and Junk mail, and seeing if I put my email address down correctly. I'm like a sad, old, crazy, cat lady who waits by the phone. It’s definitely been way too long now not to receive any correspondence so I can add that application to my growing list of rejections.

I really should send them a blank email with just this attached:

The irony being that they didn't even send me one...

It's fine though, I'd rather wait a long time for the right job, than get one now and realise it's a mistake.

P.S- I have a strong need to clarify the fact that I don’t cry into my pillow at night doubting my self-worth- that imagery was purely for your entertainment purposes. Mmm cake.

The unluckiest/luckiest holiday

September. Summer was drawing to an end. ChescaBear and I were desperate for a holiday to catch the last of the golden rays. A small break away on a lovely hot island, cocktails by the pool, indulging in food and luxury was exactly what we needed, so we got our act together and booked a holiday for 4 days on the island of Menorca. I was feeling confident that I wouldn't need to shelve out for travel insurance...realistically what could possibly go wrong in 4 days?

Our holiday can be summarised as a continuum of good and bad scenarios. From the minute we landed, we were on a rollercoaster of luck and misfortune, of which I wholeheartedly share with you now. Welcome to Good News; Bad News.

(This is quite long so you might want to get yourself a cup of tea)

Day 1- Monday

Good news- WE’RE GOING ON HOLIDAYYYYY!

Bad news- It’s 4am in the morning.

Good news- Chesca early.

Bad news- Chesca’s never early. This isn't normal. Was this a premonition of bad things to come? Were the seeds of doom already set in motion?

Good news- Saved on luggage costs by just taking hand luggage.

Bad news- Chesca’s bag looks deceptively huge. We worry they might not let her class it as hand luggage. She is asked to fit it into the dummy hand luggage space. I daren’t look as she walks over to it.

Good news- Mother of God, it fits! We cuddle and kiss the bag and praise it for its slimline shape.

Good news 2- Plenty of time on our hands. We prepared our sandwich bags with 100ml liquids in at home already.

Bad news- My sandwich bag is too big. Have to relocate everything into tiny airport provided bag. Why did I feel it necessary to bring a tube of hair gel with me??

Good news- Chesca adopts some of my items into her bag and we just about do the zip up on mine.

Bad news- Wasted 15 minutes.

Annoying news- They didn't even check the bags.

Bad news- Realised that my new Primark top is one of those tops that generates heat and I'm beginning to sweat like a sweaty pig face. Polyester is thine enemy.

Good news- A quick dash through the duty free perfume aisle and I'm smelling of roses once again.

Bad news- Somehow we went from having loads of time on our hands to needing to be at our gate in 10 minutes. Running through airport ensues. Worried we won’t be able to sit together.

Good news- We do get to sit together YAY!

Bad news- At the back of the plane.

Good news- Arrive safely and walk straight through luggage collection at Mahon Airport to find the office with our transfer arrangement.

Bad news- The lady behind the desk tells us that as of that very morning, the company that was meant to provide transport for us has pulled out of their contract with them, and she has no information on how we are meant to get to our hotel. She says sorry she can’t help us. Chesca and I are speechless and just gormlessly move away and try to rationally think how we’re gonna get to our hotel on the other end of the island. We're stranded. Images of Tom Hanks sleeping under a half burst lifeboat in Cast Away spring to mind…

Good news- By some miraculous manner, we happen to overhear two men nearby mention the name of our transfer company so we follow them surreptitiously. Attempt smooth Pink Panther prowling...

In reality, come off more like this:

Good news 2- Turns out the office they are approaching is the company that is taking on the customers from the now defunct transfer company we were originally using. Hallelujah! Lady behind the desk hands over our transfer card and tells us which coach stop to go to. I notice the card says our hotel is called ‘Blancala’ instead of ‘Calablanca’ but I think nothing of it. We are so relieved to have found our transfer, so very lucky!

Good news 3- It’s so sunny and warm when we go outside to wait for our coach.

Bad news- I'm wearing a black top and skintight jeans. Why.

Good news- Coach arrives.

Bad news- The driver says we have to wait 50 minutes for another flight to come in.

Good news- Me and Chesca get prime seats at the front of the coach. Best views of the island as we drive through it.

Bad news-  Get evilled by all the subsequent arriving elderly couples from the next flight. Elderly peeps love front seats don’t ya know.

Unsettling news- We spot a weird goat/sheep/cow hybrid animal as the coach drives through barren land. What is this place!?

Good news- Get dropped off at our hotel! We can finally get some lunch and begin sunbathing.

Bad news- Weird gut feeling as we walk towards the hotel and I think to myself “hmm this doesn't look like it did on the brochure…”

Bad news 2- Turns out we've been dropped off at the wrong hotel.

   

Our expression.

As soon as the receptionist says this I look outside to see the coach drive away. Too late.

Good news- Receptionist is handsome, blue-eyed, helpful male.

Bad news- I am the epitome of sweaty pig face.

Good news-He kindly offers to phone our hotel.

Bad news- They don’t pick up.

Good news- He rings a taxi for us. We apologise for not choosing his hotel and go to wait outside for the taxi.Taxi man looks like Pedro Almodovar. So we call him Pedro affectionately behind his back.

Good news- Pedro takes us to the right hotel HOORAY! Finally, now for that cocktail.

Bad news- The second we roll up to the reception desk we are greeted by a tornado of a woman called Gigi who on hearing our surnames exclaims “we've been waiting for you!” slightly ominous. Image of a Bond villain stroking a white cat and saying “we've been expecting you, Mr. Bond” comes to mind.

Bad news 2- She tells us they have no room for us. They have double booked. Once again we are left speechless, pondering our uncertain future. Gigi rapidly explains that it’s ok, they will move us to their sister hotel, all expenses paid, and she shows us the hotel in the brochure.

Good news- It’s right next to a beach.

Bad news- It’s 11km further away from the city we want to be in.

Good news- Although further away, buses are more frequent there.

Good news 2- Gigi tells us she will ring a taxi for us but in the meantime to enjoy a free drink in the bar. She gives us our all inclusive wristbands. FINALLY the cocktails we are so thirsty for.

Bad news- The minute we sit down to drink our cocktails, Gigi returns and tells us our taxi is here. I manage a pathetic sip whereas Chesca downs hers all in one.

Bad news 2- Realise they were non alcoholic. Great, Gigi gave us an under 18's wristband. Kick us while we’re down Gigi, ok we might not look 21 but we've been up since 3am MMMKAY, we’re tired, make-up-less, and besides it’s hard to look +18 when you’re the height of a 12 year old sheeeesh.

Good news- Pedro is back! Gigi must've called him just after he dropped us off. He gives us a friendly look and says “not again”. Yes Pedro, yes, again we are moving hotel. 

Bad news- Trying to practice my Spanish, I ask Pedro for a ‘recipe’ instead of a ‘receipt’…receta, recibo…same difference…he knew what I meant though, and actually a recipe would've been a nice touch if he’d obliged.

Bad news 2- Receptionist at new hotel, Placido, seems unfriendly. Not sure if he’s upset that his name literally means ‘placid’, or whether he’s just having a bad day. I attempt to woo him with some Spanglish. My efforts have pleased him and he is suddenly the friendly receptionist we have always hoped for! He swaps our under-age wristbands for 18+, hurrah. Chesca and I depart to our room with smiles on our faces and hunger in our stomachs.

Good news- There is a lift to take us to our third floor room.

Bad news- Forgot that Chesca hates lifts. I sense a holiday filled with stair climbing in our midst.

Good news- Our bedroom. Wow. Great view of the beach right outside our window, air conditioning, and free champagne to apologise for the inconvenience with the double booking.

Bad news- As we enter the restaurant for lunch everyone stares at us as if we are fresh meat. Most guests arrive on Friday and leave on Friday but we have arrived on Monday to leave on Friday so it’s obvious we are new. Suddenly felt very aware that we are in the minority of young females in the hotel.

Good news- No one younger than us at the hotel means no annoying kids screaming.

Bad news- Everybody elderly.

Good news- This means we have the most gravity defiant bodies out of all the guests.

Good news 2- Finally the sunbathing can begin at 4pm, and it’s still sunny.

Grey news- All women over the age of 30 in our vicinity are reading Fifty Shades of Grey.

Good news- We smell of coconut due to the sun tan oil.

Bad news- Attract flies. And UVB rays. We went for a factor 15 tanning oil based sun cream which means it only protects against UVA rays. Our logic was that as we were only here for 4 days, and the sun won’t be as strong this time of year, we should be ok. Even though usually I'm lathered in factor 30. In May. In England.

Bad news 2- About to get into pool when entertainment team start shouting WATER POLOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO. Avoid eye contact with them and retreat slowly…

Good news- Sighting of young males on the beach playing volleyball! There are other young’uns around it seems.

Bad news- Too sober to talk to them.

Good news- Chesca has cojones and decides to go and talk to them to find out where to go at night for people our age.  Me, being a complete coward, decide to stay on my grassy perch and hide behind a magazine.

Bad news- Chesca walks over to them. Later she reveals it felt like the longest walk of her life.

Thar she blows

Good news (for me)- I found the eternal walk hilarious, especially because they seemed to turn their backs on her one by one the closer she got to them…I was just relieved it wasn't me going over there. Was feeling pretty smug as a bug in a rug. 

Bad news- Chesca and I had assumed they would speak English…they didn't.

Bad news 2- I get called over to try and translate. I can confirm the length of time it takes to walk there increases exponentially with the number of eyes watching you.

Good news- They understand me, so I ask where they recommend for night life.

Bad news- I may have unintentionally poorly phrased my words during a mistranslation and said something like “Menorca is for the ancients” whoops.

Bad news 2- Either they were insulted by my feeble language attempts, or just not interested in helping us on our mission, as they seemed to only answer everything with one word answers. Increasingly awkward conversation.

Even worse news- In an attempt to get away from their penetrating eyes and immobile larynges, and to signal that this interaction was over, I said thanks unexpectedly and gave them the finger guns. Oh yeah. I went there. This was then followed by Chesca giving them the thumbs up.

Ahhh embarrassing.

  

Good news- Escape for dinner. Chips is on the menu. And all you can eat ice cream for pudding.

Bad news- Too full from chips to eat the ice cream.

Good news- Whilst late night shopping, Chesca finds two pairs of shorts she likes.

Bad news- After trying them on, it is clear that one pair is so deceptively tight and wedgie-inducing it resembles a belt, and the other pair is so loose they could smuggle a small child through customs in.

Good news- She doesn't buy either.

Good news 2- Hear lively happenings nearby at the lagoon.

Bad news- Discover that the local talent is a trio called Delicatessen. Oh dear. Maybe we should head back to the hotel…

Good news- Return to hotel to find the evening entertainment in full flow.

Bad news- Evening entertainment consists of grown men in gold, sequinned tailcoats singing children’s songs.

Even worse news- Quickly becomes apparent the entertainment is based on audience interaction. Avoid eye contact with them and retreat slowly…

Day 2- Tuesday:

Good news- Decide to be active and do the aquagym class.

Bad news- Chesca gets trapped at the shallow end of the pool, ends up doing aquagym on her knees.

Good news- Finally pushes through to the deep end of the pool.

Bad news- Only for the instructor to command that we lift ourselves out of the pool. Due to no floor leverage, Chesca gets stuck half in the pool, half on the side and begins to flounder…everybody turns to watch her, no-one offers to help. Not a great moment.

Good news- Aquagym over, back to the sunbeds, dozing off.

Bad news- The only wasp in the whole island has chosen us as his wives. Circles us repeatedly. We run away.

Good news- I pluck up the courage to talk to the handsome lifeguard to find out where is good to go at night.

Bad news- Hot day, so sweaty pig face.

Good news- He kindly draws us a map of places and explains everything.

Bad news- We forget map when we go out.

Good news- Feeling more confident after successful Spanish interaction with Luis, so spoke in Spanish to the lady behind me in the queue for the toilets. 

Bad news- She turned out to be English and had no idea what I just said. 

Good news- Happened to see my phone was ringing even though it was on silent.

Even better news- It’s the lady from the work experience placement I applied for. Said she’s been trying to get hold of me all morning and this was going to be her last attempt to ring me.

Bad news- Tell her I'm on holiday, she practically hangs up.

Desperate news- Pathetically beg her to tell me what she was going to say.

Bad news- Could hardly hear due to poor signal so have no idea what she said and whether I actually got it or not. Panic the rest of the holiday, want to check emails.

Good news- Find computers…INTERNET!

Bad news- They don’t work.

Good news- Find TV room.

Bad news- They don't work.

Good news- Later on, getting ready to go out, decide to open the free champagne. Stand back from it in case cork goes flying.

Anticlimactic news- Not even a peep of noise or champagne leaks out, cork releases gently into hand. 

 Swaddled up like a little alcoholic baby.

Good news- Successfully put on false eyelashes for the first time ever.

Bad news- Too drunk to remember how we did it.

Good news- Actually look nice.

Bad news- Camera breaks.

Good news- Camera starts working again.

Bad news- Camera decides it has narcolepsy.

Good news- Catch bus to town.

Bad news- Bus is sleep inducing.

Good news- Lots of people out and about in the city.

Bad news- Most of them are well dressed families.

Bad news 2- We are the only people wearing skirts and heels. Sticking out like sore thumbs.

Good news- See the touristy sights.

Good news 2- Buy pretty jewellery cheap, cheap!

Good news 3- Find the clubbing part of town, get a delicious cocktail at nice bar.

Bad news- Bar is empty. Clubs don’t open for another 3 hours.

Good news- Get all the attention from the staff. Cocktails make us wonderfully tipsy.

Bad news- Tipsy synonymous with tired. Decide to give in to our inner sleepyness and go back to hotel rather than waiting hours for the club to get busy.

Good news- Get off bus suddenly rejuvenated and go to the beach to play.

Bad news- Lose a gold earring in the sand.

Good news- Chesca has a great time…

Bad news- …On a kiddies stand alone electric horse. Which isn't switched on.

 Day 3- Wednesday:

Good news- Make friends with bar lady, Fatima. She gives us lots of helpful info about things we have to see while we’re on the island.

Bad news- We don’t have any time left to go to these places. She says to come back in June.

Good news- Aquagym again today.

Bad news- Still in pain from Aquagym yesterday.

Good news- They play catchy song I love.

Bad news- They also play ‘somebody that I used to know’. This song has haunted us during our time here. It. Is. Everywhere. GO. AWAY.

Good news- Chesca and I join in with midday entertainment quiz.

Bad news- Come last.

Good news- Noticing we are tanning bit by bit.

Bad news- Have also burnt. Most likely from first day sunbathing, which we didn't realise so we've now burnt on top of our burn. It’s itchy.

Good news- At lunch we notice a whole separate section of the buffet with proper cooked food.

Bad news- It’s taken until today to notice it. All that delicious food we could have eaten…..

Good news- Go for walk along sea edge. It's so peaceful and pretty.

Bad news- Spot man ready to jump off the cliff for a spot of tombstoning… worry we’re going to witness an accidental death.

Good news- He doesn't land in rocks and swims away. Relief!

Good news 2- Find beautiful beach.

Bad news- Sun goes in. On way back happen to walk past those volleyball boys from the first day. Awkward.

Good news- Plan our night better, decide to leave later so we can stay later.

Bad news- Didn't leave enough time to get ready so frantically rush about. Eyelashes fall down face. Have to ditch them.

Bad news 2- We missed the bus have to wait for next one. It’s also freezing cold, in rush for bus I forgot my jacket.

Good news- Bus turns up! We hadn't missed it, it was just super late.

Bad news- Actually hear a man laugh at me and Chesca as we stand in the cold in our dresses waiting to get on bus. We’re the only people getting on the bus at this hour whilst everyone is getting off it.

Bad news 2- Stupid bus is so damn cosy it just makes you want to fall asleep on it every time.

Bad news 3- Chesca and I practically asleep by the time we arrive. We contemplate not getting off the bus and returning back to hotel. Some life and soul of the party we are!

Good news- We soldier on and get off the bus. Find a nice little bar on a slope with live music playing.

Bad news- No tables free.

Good news- About to move on when I catch the slightest movement in my peripheral vision, a lady has just moved from her table so we pounce on it. It’s right next to the live band. Feeling very smug and trendy.

Bad news- Being on the hill, and being clumsy, about 3 of our belongings roll off our table and down the slope whilst we’re there.

Good news- Nice passers-by pick them up for us.

Elegant news- Try to be sophisticated with a glass of wine.

Bad news- It comes in a tiny bowl. Impossible to look all Grace Kelly holding a tuppaware full of wine.

Good news- Make our way over to the clubbing area later than yesterday, try a different bar with a dance floor on the ground floor.

Bad news- Still empty.

Good news- We get top roof terrace all to ourselves!

Bad news- After a while, a miniature storm brews up, it starts raining and lightning. Decide to call it quits and run off home with our wet tails between our legs. On way out, notice the dance floor has got people gathering now but would probably be another 2 hours before it gets super lively.

Good news- Get back safe and sound, although slightly gutted the young people of Menorca are clearly vampires if they only emerge at 2am in the morning. Brighton night life for the win.

Bad news- Both spend an absolutely freezing night shivering under covers but neither of us mentions it to one another. Next morning we realise we’d left the air con on. Ah.

Day 4- Thursday

Good news- Despite a cold nights sleep, wake up sprightly and energised for our last day of sunbathing!

Bad news- Open curtains and see thick grey clouds for miles around. The storm that began last night has left its mark.

Bad news 2- We are even more burnt now so we’re grateful for the cloud cover. So painful, so itchy, so red like lobsters.

Questionable judgement news- Risk a day by the pool even though there’s a mini hurricane going on. Palm trees 30ft tall are swaying.

Good news- Because hardly any people are braving the winds, we get prime deckchair spots!

Bad news- Hit in head by deckchair due to strong winds. Twice. Lady opposite laughs at me. A low point of the holiday.

Bad news 2- Plastic bag goes flying in the wind. Chesca chases after it.

Good news- She’s about to catch it.

Bad news- When it goes through the one tiny gap in a bush.

Good news- She rescues it from its thorny demise! Hurrah!

Good news 2- Go to beach in the afternoon once sun has come out a bit.

Bad news- Twenty minutes later, sun goes in and it starts raining. Never seen people evacuate a beach so quickly.

Good news- Ring up transfer company to arrange pick up time for tomorrow.

Bad news- Need to be up at 5:30 am. Eurgh.

Meat news- Chesca eats veal for the very first time. I was so excited for this moment.

Bad news- Was so busy chatting I completely missed her eating it.

Bad news 2- Get back to room. Chesca’s burn has spread all over her back and torso, except for the occasional white patch, leaving her skin to resemble the print of a cow. Or a pork scratching.

Good news- Pleasant, quiet evening out walking around the shops. Buy some good souvenirs.

Good news 2- Stop at a bar for just one cocktail before going to pack and have an early night.

Bad news- The cocktails are huuuuuge. End up staying for ages (but having a good time!)

This doesn't do them justice. They were big enough to host a school of fish.

Bad news 2- Still super windy so when we get up to leave, we subsequently flash everybody Marilyn Monroe style.

Good news- One more late night tipple at the hotel bar, Chesca orders a proper cocktail to see if we get it free on our all inclusive wristbands. I order a tea.

Bad news- Turns out we do. The whole time we've been drinking the poolside mixers, which tasted a little bit too much like recycled pool water for my liking, when all along we could've had proper fruity cocktails. We are such lemons.

Day 5- Friday

Good news- Wake up on time.

Bad news- Don't want to be awake this early.

Good news- Hands are brown.

Bad news- Everything else red.

Good news- Get on the transfer safely.

Bad news- It takes nearly two hours to pick everybody else up before we get to the airport. I am the living definition of a tired baby; head lolling up and down like the Churchill dog, eyes droopy, practically dribbling.

Good news- Get some breakfast at airport cafe. Chesca eats the best chorizo sandwich of her life.

Bad news- Because the queue to check in was so long, don't even have time to finish my cup of tea. Heartbroken.

Good news- Get on plane and get to sit next to eachother, hooray! As you can tell, this is a very important matter to us.

Good news- The lady on the other side of Chesca is friendly and starts chatting to us.

Bad news- She doesn’t stop chatting. Sooooo tired, please stop talkinggggg.

Good news- Land in Gatwick.

Bad news- At the wrong terminal. Pilot says over the tannoy...“Er... we appear to be in the north terminal instead of the south. Sorry for the inconvenience”

Bad news- Miss train.

Good news- Both of us end up home safe and sound, and despite all the near misses, turned out we didn't need travel insurance after all- Phew. Success.

 

Good news 2- Kept the diary notes from our holiday.

Bad news- Takes me 2 months to write it up.

So there you go, our mini holiday! It was a really fun holiday, everything that went wrong did turn out good, if not better, in the end. I got the work experience after all, Chesca returned to her normal colour, and we made some beautiful, beautiful children memories.

I do love that girl y’know.