Menorca is owned by the ants.
The place is full of them.
We’ve been warned to keep all food covered, not to leave any food lying about and to empty waste bins on a daily basis.
And the ants are noticeable.
Like crawling over my bed.
And in the bedroom chest of drawers where our clothes are.
Today we went for a leisurely stroll along the beach. Quite crowded but of course it’s the locals day off so it would be. The beach is really nice. Long, wide and has beautiful soft sand. We were reaching the far end of the beach when I noticed this old man paddling along the water’s edge towards us. There was something not quite right about him but in the distance it was difficult for me to establish why I thought this. As he got closer I said to Pauline, “I think this old fool has forgotten his shorts.”
“Oh my God, this is the nudist beach,” she suddenly shouted.
And it was.
We were just at the beginning of it and I’d already paddled past quite a few nudists lying on the beach without even realising it. (It was me who didn’t realise it, not the nudists, they obviously realised they were lying on the beach, well not obviously, obviously, some of them could have been lying there as a result of some wild evening which left them incapable of knowing where they were). Mind you, all the women looked like lesbians and most of the men were gay. Mixed couples were definitely in the minority.
This evening we picked a different restaurant. Hopefully we can eat out in a different one every night of the holiday, unless that is we find one that’s so superb, so friendly, so cheap and so relaxing that we’ll want to eat there again and again.
No chance of that.
We ordered red wine. The waiter bustled up with an ice bucket and a bottle of white wine. We sent him away.
Pauline ordered chicken breast. The waiter bustled up with a chicken leg.We sent him away.
(Look, I know what you’re thinking. He didn’t really have one normal leg and one chicken leg, that would be ridiculous, he was perfectly normal.)
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