|99' ice cream style cup cake made by yours truly|
I have been on many holidays that's one of the benefits of getting older - clocking up holidays. My early childhood holidays were caravaning or camping in not so sunny parts of the UK (is there such a thing sunny part of the UK?) like Bognor Regis and Lyme Regis. My Granny and Grandad had a little shop there and I can remember helping myself to the ice-cream. They also ran a B&B and we got to ring the bell to let the guests know breakfast was up. I can remember lots of Tupperware and Granny making home made food for her guests. She was a dab hand at the old domestic stuff and would probably give Nigella a run for her money. I mean she made us personalised Easter eggs for goodness sake!
Later we would travel to France as my parents were sick of the costly dull holidays in the UK. I loved France from the moment our car landed on French soil. I loved the road signs, the adverts in the fields, the weather, the French accent and of course the French boys.
|Girly holiday check out those white jeans!|
Then there's the memorable couple holidays. One in particular which involved my best friend, her ex, my ex and the hiring of a jeep. My ex decided that the little sign that says "do not go off road" need not apply. Even when he blew the tyre and we had ample time to turn the sodding vehicle around and go back he chose not to do so. We go up a dirt track the width of our vehicle and climb what can only be described as a mountain which has a sheer drop to our right and took 3 hours to climb. There was even a shepherd's hut at the top for peat's sake. Never before had I seen my friend shout at her boyfriend but when he decided to take a snap at the top she let rip. We reach the top and by this time have run out of petrol so the ex knocks the car into neutral and free wheels down the mountain. My hair resembles dreadlocks by the end of this off road experience from the dust that has gathered up in it. That incident is much like the Italian hellish journey only its me and my friend's equivalent. We still can't really talk about it even though it was 17 years ago. Again the scars run deep on this one!
Then that same friend and I backpacked our way around Europe which really is a post for another day. As is tales from Cuba and the most terrifying air plane journey I have ever encountered.
I decided the best cure for a broken heart was 2 weeks in Crete self catering - £300 jobs a goodun. The night before we went clubbing in our hometown and had our usual 2 am snack - a kebab. We got in line at the taxi rank but some gobby girl started accusing us of jumping the queue! My friend much smaller than me explains no we weren't. I take one look at the girl and say something along the lines of "shouldn't you be at home studying for your GCSE's?" For some reason she takes umbrage to this and punched my friend in the face who was merrily tucking into her kebab.
I was about to retaliate when a bloke much older said he'd punch the lot of us. Time to get the hell out of there me thinks. We jumped into a taxi whilst booting the man with one leg out the door and got back to her maisonette. Frozen peas sorted out the mark on her face and the next day we boarded our flight to Crete.
|Enjoying our dinner pre arrest|
|In the offending bar|