I did a ‘stretch’ class on the beach this morning with Mel. She loves that shit. I was one of only two men. The other guy was probably gay. Even though he was with his wife. And I’m so assured in my heterosexuality that I can take the strange looks from, mainly the American men, who stand there sipping their Margueritas getting sunstroke whilst their kids are drowning unattended in nearby pools.

Today was a form of yoga. Which stems from the ancient Hindi word meaning ‘torture’. And its pretty much as impossible as it is impenetrable. The ‘how’ as difficult as the ‘why’. So as instructed, I wrapped my crossed legs around my right arm, lifted my left foot one inch above the ground and was told to put my chin down towards the thighs.
HOW WAS I SUPPOSED TO KNOW THAT HE MEANT MY THIGHS? RATHER THAN THE LOVELY LOOKING AMERICAN GIRL’S TO MY RIGHT????

I got a slap for that one, like the yoga itself wasn’t painful enough. The slap was from Mel, the American girl was more than happy.

This resort is divided between the Brits (boozy, scummy, tattooed, more boozy) and the Yanks, (very boozy, scummy, different tattoos and hefty). So its easy to tell them apart. If their girth exceeds anything even vaguely approaching ‘normal limits of obesity’ then they’re American. If they’re just plain stodgy they’re British.

But there’s a cultural difference. A big one. Other than definitions of what ‘football’ is.

The British drink all day and all night. The yanks do similarly. But the Brits put their drinks down when they go for a swim or out for a walk (well; a waddle), and the Yanks don’t. Its like some statement of boozy patriotism. Aaah’m a ‘merican therefore aaah don’t put my drink down for nobody, no-how’, aaah-men. So they walked along the shore, feet in the waves, strolling along with a JD & coke in one hand and a Heineken in the other. Or they’re in the shallow pools. Sunglasses on head and drinks in hand. And I’m not talking about one or two (out of the hundreds here), I’m talking about all of them. Even their kids, emulating the parental example, take their fruit juices and cokes (never diet) when they walk with Ma and Pa.

Anyway, Spurs just beat Stoke. 3-nil and I’m a happy happy man. More happy than mere sun, sea and tequila could ever produce.

Happy happy Sundays

A xxxx