The continuing diaries of an Englishman abroad visiting such exotic places as Spain, USA, Malta and heaven knows where. Tagging along are his wife Pauline and daughter Emma.

Everything you are about to read is based on true events and real people. It may have been embellished beyond recognition for a cheap laugh but everything happened to a greater or lesser degree. Apart from the bits I made up. OK, and apart from the jokes. And apart from the fantasy sequences. But all the characters are real, believe me.


Exciting isn't it?


Thursday, 9 February 2012

Majorca 2004 - Day 5


Emma recovered somewhat by late afternoon and after missing dinner last night has decided she feels up to eating again. Tonight it’s a special ‘Gala Night’. Can’t wait.

At breakfast this morning Placido said something to me but I didn’t quite catch what it was he said. “Sorry?” I said.

He said, “You no have to say sorry. Why you say sorry?”

I said, “No, I forgot, sorry.”

He said, “You no have to say sorry. Why you say sorry?”

I said, “I’ll never say sorry again – damn.”

He said, “You no have to say sorry. Why you say sorry?”

Pauline came over as they were clearing the tables and switching the lights off and dragged me out……

After breakfast we went for a stroll into town. It’s 20 minutes away but a very pleasant walk along the sea front all the way. As we progressed from our quiet end we passed the usual rows and rows of bars, restaurants and shops. How they all make a living is remarkable, there are so many of them. There’s a nice pleasant atmosphere as you walk along, no lager louts, no McDonalds, no rubbish in the streets and no screaming kids. Apart from a few people in their 20’s – 30’s most people we passed seemed at least 40 +. The whole place is quiet, immaculately clean and well looked after. People stroll slowly and casually along the promenade beaming and smiling as they go. In fact, if there was piped music in the air I would have sworn I was in an episode of ‘The Prisoner’. I’m sure I heard one old man say, “Be seeing you” as I passed.

It seems those sandals I had so much trouble buying last year in Minorca are everywhere here – and cheaper.

Spent the rest of the day by the pool being annoyed by Emmathethomsonrep.

It was soon dinner time and I was really looking forward to Gala Night. I don’t know what I was expecting but I couldn’t wait to see how much effort they would put into it after Saturday’s American Night. As we walked into the dining room things were looking up. Placido was there as usual, this time though he was dressed in top hat and tails without the top hat. It didn’t quite fit though. The trousers were noticeably baggy around the waist and the legs were a good few inches above his ankles. The tailed jacket also seemed to have been meant for a much taller and larger man as Placido’s tails almost dragged along the ground when he walked. Close your eyes and imagine Eric Morecambe in one of his comedy dress suits and you have the picture.

The rest of the staff were all wearing their normal uniforms but with one important ‘Gala Evening’ contribution – a black and gold waistcoat. But wait, there’s more. To complete the total ambience and at no expense spared they’ve draped some crepe paper and tinsel decorations around the buffet serving area. What a disappointment eh? I mean, apart from Placido’s comedy suit they’d hardly made much of an effort had they?

I don’t know about you but to me, Gala Evening conjures up images of a gay, festive, carnival atmosphere. Gay caballeros in their big Mexican hats and rhinestone covered outfits playing those huge acoustic guitars the size of a double bass that they can hardly carry while walking from table to table serenading the young ladies and performing such numbers as ‘Aye yi yi yi yi I like you very much’ or ‘My little bimbo down on the bimbo isle’ accompanied by all that screaming, shouting and rolling of the R’s that they all seem to be so good at. And then from out of the kitchen would burst the Carmen Miranda dancers, oranges, pineapples and bananas wobbling around on their heads while they swirled their Spanish dresses and shouted and screamed and rolled their R’s. What a sight! People at their tables being encouraged to drink wine from those glass bottle things that look like small watering cans which you hold up and away from your face so the wine pours out in a long arc into your mouth until someone jogs your arm accidentally on purpose. The sound of raucous laughter from one side of the dining room where the limbo dancing was in full sway, all the participants with one thing in common – they all had red wine dripping from their chin and running down the front of their best evening clothes. Little old ladies cackling in delight and lifting their dresses to show everyone their knickers as they go into little old lady pre-programmed party mode. And to top it all, swinging naked from the chandelier was Emmathethomsonrep…..What a night. What a Gala Evening.

Bur no, instead we all sat there eating quietly watching Placido dropping pins.

Yup, I heard that one,” I said.

So did I,” said Pauline.

Us too,” said Emma and Dan.

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