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Darling Nikki...

Apologies for the lateness of today's ramblings.  Yesterday did not really go as planned whatsoever...

It started with good intentions.  I wanted to go and see the famous Hippie Market at Es Cana, and had forcibly dragged five reluctant family members along with me for the ride. I have never seen so many beards and tie dye t-shirts in my life, and coupled with the overwhelming smell of joss sticks and weed, it was altogether quite an interesting experience.  Naturally, nothing was bought by the other five, but I managed to buy a couple of bracelets which will probably last till I get on the plane, such is the level of workmanship.

The other reason to go to Es Cana was so that some of the more energetic of us could do some watersports.  This did not include me, I have to say.  I stopped going further than my knees into the sea circa 1975 when a certain shark made its appearance.  My dad was very fond of saying that he wouldn't go into the sea because of 'that naughty old shark', and I have continued with this line of thought.

And so it was that daughter number one, son number one and the husband headed out to the sea for a bit of paddle boarding.  The beach wasn't much to write home about, and just at the top of the beach I spotted the place which I had really come to see on the quiet.  Nikki Beach (  My best friend Mrs S had been here earlier in the year, and after what she told me, it was definitely on my list of  'Things to do in Ibiza'. It was like an oasis of white leather beds, pool, DJ, expensive drinks. It was all going on, and I dragged the kids in there.

Now I'm not saying that I felt slightly out of place in my M&S shorts and flip flops, but I reckon that the bikinis on show in there would have fed my family for a week. Notwithstanding that, the other two kids and I settled down at the bar and ordered Mojitos. By the time the husband got back, we'd managed another couple, so weren't going anywhere fast.  In fact, we were there for six hours, by which time, the husband was having a dancing lesson from son number two, and daughter number one had passed out on a sunlounger.

It was an amazing day though, but with the kind of bill at the end which means that you'll only ever do it once.  We will be on short rations for September, that's for sure.

So today has been rather a quiet one.  Just as well because tonight we're off to Amnesia. The kids reckon that 2.30am should be a good time to get there, and I am aiming to stay till at least 6.30.  The kids are running a book as to who will cave first, but I have a feeling that it won't be either of us (pride will not allow this to happen).  The blog will be late again tomorrow for obvious reasons, but I know none of you will mind too much, because you will all know what state I'll be in, and will be quietly tutting over a cup of tea.

Knowing that I'm going to be burning the midnight oil, I've tried to take some power naps today to increase the chances of staying up all night, but on both occasions have been woken by two different Welsh ladies.  

The first one wanted a cushion which was at my feet on the double bed I was stretched out on.  Fine, I wasn't using it.  What's more, if she hadn't said anything, I wouldn't have noticed or cared that it had gone.

The second lady nudged me this afternoon asking me for a light.  Stirring, I murmured that I didn't smoke.

'Are you sure you don't have a light?  There's a pack of cigarettes by you'.

Confused and now completely awake, I looked round to find the offending cigarettes.

'That's a pack of cards', I said, 'not cigarettes'.

Peering at the box, she apologised and walked away.  Just as I was settling back down to sleep, she shouted across the pool, 'Sorry if I woke you up by the way'.

Not too worry dear, I'll get my own back at 7.00 tomorrow morning when I come in rather worse for wear...


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