The great thing about ‘child friendly resorts’ is that there’s loads’a kids, running round, shouting, crying, eating ice creams, jumping into swimming pools, having lots of fun and games around their parents who find comfort in the presence of fellow sufferers. The bad thing about ‘child friendly resorts’ is that there’s loads’a kids, running round, shouting…

I suppose really I want a resort that is ‘Lila and Joey friendly’ and those other kids can go somewhere else. It’s a big island. So I’ve been told. We haven’t left the resort and to be honest, we have no intention of doing so. There’s a big volcano here. I like volcanos. Possibly not the one on neighbouring La Palma which has been erupting constantly for about 6 months, bit too close for comfort, but the one here is lovely. Tame. At the moment of writing. But I’ve seen volcanoes. Loads of them. A humongous one in Ecuador. We visited the immense one in Iceland three days before it exploded, shutting the world’s air traffic down for weeks, in 2010 (Mel’s… ‘significant’ birthday turned out to be significant for everyone stuck on holiday. I place no blame, just sayin’).

But I haven’t come to see volcanos. Nor rock formations, Aztec ruins, ancient mosques, the tree Lord Buddha would have sat under for a few years if he’d take a package to Tenerife nor Adolph Hitler’s ‘other’ bunker. I’m here for the sun, the all-inclusiveness and to be child friendly. But only to Lila and Joey for reasons obvious to anyone who reads about ‘historic friendliness’ in the papers.

The all-inclusiveness is a bit of a problem for people like me. People who adhere to the maxim: show me a buffet and I’ll show you a pig. But its not all buffet. There’s a million things to eat here, in a million different ways in a hundred different places. And a zillion places to drink. If you’re so inclined. As so many are. So to compensate, we swim our lengths before breakfast. Mel does her 40 lengths of a 30 metre pool, but she fucking would, wouldn’t she. Rachie does 10 or 12, and I do as many as the shoulder allows. Yesterday that was almost 3, today I made the P.B. of 10. And haven’t attempted to move the right arm since.

Yesterday we went to the gym. I hate gyms. Never ever go but I thought… I thought… well, due to the increased intake (about 20,000 calories of ‘increase’ a day) I should make the effort. And I found a punch bag. But, like, in the literal sense, rather than just some Spanish pool boy I dislike intensely. And that was sheer joy. Punching, but that got a bit dull, then I realised I could kick the shit out of it too, and no-one would mind. So I practiced all my kicks, punches, blows and combinations, and it was cathartic. Like meditation, but more violent. I sweated so much I needed 4 pints of lager and a double bacon cheeseburger just to feel normal before dinner.

There is an ‘adults only’ section here. Lila and Joey have instructed a lawyer about discrimination, their human rights and the general ethics of the adult population.

Happy Wednesday

A xxxx