I didn’t mention my stopover in Lanzarote. We were there for the day yesterday. I suppose because I have been there so many times it didn’t really register.
It was a great day actually. The weather was superb.
I could have called in home and painted a couple of walls I suppose. I didn’t. Instead I managed to get picked up from the boat and driven back to Puerto del Carmen by Christine who wishes to be nameless for fear of one of her many lovers reading this.
Some chance.
Anyway we mooched over to the other side of the island, to a pretty little place called El Golfo. And took a lovely, relaxed, leisurely lunch where we discussed everything of complete inconsequence. There so many of these little places on the island and yet so easy to forget to enjoy them.
Well we didn’t on this occasion. A nice fish restaurant. Just yards from the sea. It was all very civilised. And weather wise, by far the best day of the week.
I had travelled on a boat for a week covering hundreds of miles with a bundle of women on board.
Yet sitting in the restaurant with a great looking woman, chatting intelligently about anything that came up did me as much good as anything else on the trip. [ED: who was she with?]
Clara has returned. Presumably from the dead. But then again she’s always looked like that so who knows.
Apparently, according to cabin mate, she turned up around 9am rat-arsed and smelling of men.
Some thought it a miracle, others thought of the waste of plastic flowers and gin. Especially the gin.
Mind you, credit where it’s due.. the pizzas were great.
We all popped in to wish her a speedy recovery – although I’m sure any recovery would do in her case.
She had little to say for herself other than “What’s that duct tape for?”
Today, Friday, was spent in port in Tenerife. I was going to go onshore after breakfast as the weather was so good. However by the time I got myself together it had come overcast and eventually the heavens really opened.
The poor buggers walking the mile or so into town got caught in it and must have got drowned.
I witnessed the quickest evacuation of the sundeck ever seen. Hundreds that were not going ashore and were happy to sunbathe the day away, suddenly vanished in seconds and as if by magic retreating to the bars and restaurants. Say what you like about the Italians but they don’t change much do they?
I, of course, was the typical mad Englishman. I simply stripped down to my budgies and calmly got in the first of the two Jacuzzis set up on the sun deck. Well, if I’m going to get wet I may as well be in the warm eh?
I had the whole of the sun deck, at least two football pitches, all to myself. There I was, sat in the pouring rain, in a Jacuzzi.
I could see people coming up to the observation point and taking photos.
Eventually a Swedish or Danish guy, perhaps even Ghanaian (I’m no good with accents), came, stripped down and got in the second Jacuzzi. We couldn’t speak to each other but by signing alone we asked each other who were the fools here, us or the dripping wet photographers inside?
We had a peaceful hour in our own baths just grinning and giving each other the thumbs up every now and again.
Magic !