The thing with resort type holidays is that the days are all (fabulously, miraculously, divinely) similar. Whether we choose to swim first, then walk a few miles up the beach, or go cycling in the gym before breakfast or before lunch, or which restaurant you eat which meal in, is all subject to whim. And to limited availability, which really, is what you want. And you see the same people pretty much on the same part of the beach, every day. And you try to ignore them as much as you can, obviously, but sometimes that is rendered impossible.

By something so simple and mundane as a Spurs cap.

Noticed by the doctor from Manchester on my first day. His wife is a Manchester United fan. Shame for her.

‘Oh, you’re a Spurs fan’, said little ginger-haired, pink-skin burner from his factor 80’d up patch of shade. ‘Well, Nick’ (guy in the cabana next to mine; bloody cheek) ‘is a massive Everton fan’. Which could be misconstrued as rudeness because Nick carries about 7 stone excess round his waist. Or, another, small Everton fan, perhaps, to keep up numbers. And, of course, Spurs play Everton tomorrow. Big game. They’re all big here. Just big for different people. Or big for different big people.

Little sun-burner is a Liverpool fan. Insanely so. The sanity in question due to his heart-felt belief that the red scousers could win the league this year. Should win it. Almost inconceivable that they won’t. Even after his heart-shattering defeat to West Ham today.

Whereas on the very next sunbed is Siddy Sunderland (not his real name; that’s withheld for legal reasons and because I don’t know it). Who was leaping for joy as his lowly team actually managed to win a game against the only team currently lower, Aston Villa.

I haven’t so far (thank God) found any Arsenal fans. Maybe they hang out on a different part of the beach. A special part reserved for the very top teams’ fans. I haven’t been invited there so I wouldn’t know. And you can generally find an Arsenal fan because some poor northerner who supports Bolton or Port Vale or some such is punching the merry shit out of him shouting “shut the fuck up, you SMUG, ARROGANT BASTARD!!!!!”

Big game tomorrow. Come on you Spurs

A xxxx