Because my life is clearly too fun to condense all my favourite trips into one blog post, here is part deux of my holiday instalments.
Barcelona – The time me and an old house mate hopped onto a plane to Barcelona for a long weekend, checked into our hostel and didn’t return for about 72 hours. The events that followed are a bit of a blur but we met some awesome people, watched the sun rise from a strangers balcony, and slept in the park, like homeless people. All I know is that there was a lot of male nudity and dancing along to ‘Freakin’ It – Will Smith’. We also adopted a French Dude called Pierre, we lost him, I hope he got home safe. A snippet of evidence can be found below.
Corfu – The last family holiday me and my sister were ever invited on. The holiday that started my downhill spiral on life. Age 14, blind drunk, kissing a dude that looked like Martin Fowler… in front of my family. I swear to god my sister made me do it. Passing out eating cheetos whilst my sister incorrectly sung along to Paolo Nutini ‘lay down inside me’ (she genuinely thought they were the lyrics, she wasn’t trying to be funny). Waking up with a gob full of disintegrated cheesy puffs, surfacing to face my family mid-afternoon and having my Dad sing the Eastenders theme tune at me for the entirety of the holiday.
The night after, drunken Lexy and her sister strolled into town to the nearest discotheque where I decided to fall in love with the Albanian boy who worked at our hotel. After sinking a large amount of tequila for a child I proceeded to kiss him a lot, this time only in front of my sister. He proceeded to text me weekly for the next two years until I finally lost my pink Motorola Razor along with his number. Such a tragedy, with Romeo & Juliet undertones. Lexy & Nikos 4EVA. No?
Kos – There was the time me and some girlfriends went away to Kos for the week, we fully intended to get as much sun and alcohol down us as possible but I don’t think we could have anticipated the sheer amount of carnage that ensued. After a truck load of Gyros and questionable holiday romances me and a friend thought it would be funny to get henna ‘tramp stamps’ that read ‘Wolverine’ and ‘Old Spice’. Mine didn’t wash off for at least a year, while my friends washed off immediately in the pool. I was branded. Lesson learnt: Don’t fuck about with henna. Try living a normal life with ‘Wolverine’ etched onto your lower back. You’d be surprised how often it can crop up in conversation. Highlights included a underarm wax, a broken sun lounger and a chap that wrote and performed a rap for me by the poolside. I still rate that.
Jamaica – My cousin is a Virgin Air Hostess, she also happens to be my best friend which comes in handy when you feel like sneaking off to Jamaica to play with dolphins, drink red stripe, eat Jerk Chicken and listen to Eternal for A WEEKEND. Anyway, I really offended a bunch of women I was sat next to on the plane on the way there when they asked me to guess their ages, to which I guessed wayyyy to high. This was before we took off so all I could do was drink an excessive amount of free Gin, watch Frozen (which was class by the way) and then pretend to fall asleep for the remaining 7.5 hours I had left of the flight
Croatia – The best five days of festival fun of my life to date. I spent most of the trip in a confused state, wearing a poncho with that feeling that you really picked the wrong day to go to Thorpe Park. We stayed in a little old Croatian lady’s B&B and she was so sweet that I almost felt bad for the things we put her through and the amount of her rules we broke.
The festival itself was pretty small, so small that by the time we left to go home we were in several high school esque cliques. There were the German Dentists, The Drug Dealers, The guys who worked the Photo Hut, The people who hung around the Henna Tattoo man (you think I would have learnt my lesson, but no.) And the people who were at the 80’s pop and 00’s R&B and Hip Hop tent every night religiously until 6am. It was heaven on earth. My spirit’s reflection. Ha
- Drinking amazing grapefruit flavour beer all week, feeling absolutely fine then on the last day realising it was only 2.5%.
- Meeting a man who was ‘ketted’ off his face and carrying a kitten around in a sling, he was certain he was going to take it home on the plane and wanted to call it Tabitha. Also, the other dude who took too much ketamine and walked around barefoot, wearing a cape and holding a broom for the week solid, I never saw him with anyone except the broom.
- SEEING CHIC & NILE ROGERS and feeling disco AF.
- Maggie, the semi-retired judge who appeared to be at the festival alone, she was also wearing wristbands for Hideout, Dimensions and Outlook, sooo, hats off to her really. Every time we saw her she had taken so much MDMA that she looked like she was about to jump out of her own face. Oh Maggie.
- Wearing a disposable poncho with a bikini underneath for a week solid and looking like some sort of exotic Klu Klux Klan member.
- Making friends with the only group of black people and openly naming then ‘So solid crew’ because racism (they loved us, it was OK).
I need to book a mini break immediately and this sunshine is not helping the situation. But on the flip side I should probably try and organise some sort of savings to enable me to move out of my parents house before I hit the menopause. Life.