Bora Bora
I haven't been blogging because I've had the week off work, which was marvellous. I heartily recommend it, I actually feel refreshed today. Considering I spent the first half of the week in Ibiza with Marion and Deidre, this is no mean feat. We thought we might as well pop over there to celebrate the Deidre's recent 30th birthday and mine too, even though it isn't until October.
The reason this picture of the Bora Bora beach bar is sideways is that the "rotate" button on Flickr doesn't work on my computer. Slightly annoying, but it probably does convey the angle I was on when I took it. On our first morning, Marion and I innocently set off on a stroll to see Playa D'en Bossa beach. But when we were within ten meters of the sacred sands, the heavens opened and we were confined to a bar for, ooh, at least an hour. Luckily, our time there was not wasted as a kindly local bestowed ale upon us, and educated us in the local grappa-esque liquor... thingies of the island. So by the time the rain clouds (pictured) were buggering off over the sea, we were having a tremendous time at Bora Bora, swilling down half pints of Ameretto discussing how generally brilliant everything and everyone is and how much we love them.
Needless to say, it didn't last and we were back to hating everything and everyone following a short siesta.
After having a spankingly good time at Space, laughing at the ponces in DC10 (we thought "explosion in a c*nt factory" summed it up), circling the swimming pool on a misappropriated lilo, spending a cloudy Tuesday nibbling what have to be the most enormous Wotsits I've ever seen, and FINALLY getting our paella, we felt we'd been sufficiently mugged by the glowering gangs of murderous, espadrille-sporting, mullet-flicking villains that no doubt control every night club, family pub, Spar, bar and hire car on the island, and were ready to leave. Thank f*ck we made it back just before the airports went absolutely do-lally bonkers. I can just imagine the clammy, officious security types squirming with delight in their snug-fitting nylon suits as they forced miserable, rain-spattered, poly-poncho-wearing travellers to stow their potentially lethal air pillows, Opal Fruits and copies of Heat back in their suitcases. I probably would have had to mutter something quite strong. Terrible business.
The reason this picture of the Bora Bora beach bar is sideways is that the "rotate" button on Flickr doesn't work on my computer. Slightly annoying, but it probably does convey the angle I was on when I took it. On our first morning, Marion and I innocently set off on a stroll to see Playa D'en Bossa beach. But when we were within ten meters of the sacred sands, the heavens opened and we were confined to a bar for, ooh, at least an hour. Luckily, our time there was not wasted as a kindly local bestowed ale upon us, and educated us in the local grappa-esque liquor... thingies of the island. So by the time the rain clouds (pictured) were buggering off over the sea, we were having a tremendous time at Bora Bora, swilling down half pints of Ameretto discussing how generally brilliant everything and everyone is and how much we love them.
Needless to say, it didn't last and we were back to hating everything and everyone following a short siesta.
After having a spankingly good time at Space, laughing at the ponces in DC10 (we thought "explosion in a c*nt factory" summed it up), circling the swimming pool on a misappropriated lilo, spending a cloudy Tuesday nibbling what have to be the most enormous Wotsits I've ever seen, and FINALLY getting our paella, we felt we'd been sufficiently mugged by the glowering gangs of murderous, espadrille-sporting, mullet-flicking villains that no doubt control every night club, family pub, Spar, bar and hire car on the island, and were ready to leave. Thank f*ck we made it back just before the airports went absolutely do-lally bonkers. I can just imagine the clammy, officious security types squirming with delight in their snug-fitting nylon suits as they forced miserable, rain-spattered, poly-poncho-wearing travellers to stow their potentially lethal air pillows, Opal Fruits and copies of Heat back in their suitcases. I probably would have had to mutter something quite strong. Terrible business.
posted by Elizabeth at 12:49 PM
1 Comments:
Yers. From what I heard on the news the other night the airline industry has pretty much ground to a halt.
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