Unfortunately, the painful though not debilitating back pain I’ve been carting around for a few weeks has not fully disappeared, so I’m wandering around Formentera somewhat gingerly, at least in the mornings while I gradually unstiffen, (ooh er, missus), looking like I haven’t managed to make it to the bathroom in time. At least I managed to make it to breakfast hall this morning to see what delights were on offer.
The hotel caters for folk from all different nationalities, including the British for whom the most disgusting looking high fat offal tubes (sausages) were available. What the Germans, no strangers to sausages themselves, would have made of it, goodness knows. After a very brief search of the many and varied counters, I went for the safe side and ordered a freshly cooked omelette with nothing but egg in it. Everyone else added cheese, tomato and onion to theirs, but then there is lots about the overseas breakfast I don’t quite get.
For instance, there was a huge selection of cheese and various types of ham available. Although I lapsed on the flight over and enjoyed a delightful TUI three cheese toastie for breakfast, now I couldn’t face it. Nor, to be fair, could I face the prospect in front of me of caviar, cod roe or tuna along with my corn flakes. The omelette would do.
We spent the morning by the pool, until just before noon when the rain simply got too much. Once it stopped, we walked along the beach to the Lucky Bar and drank beer and ate tortilla, realising that they only took cash. We never use cash but by some miracle we did have a few Euros with us today, saving us from having to wash up or worse. It’s a lovely bar with great views of near naked people on the beach in front of you – not that I was looking: once you have seen one penis, you have seen them all, I reckon – and not once was I put off my cerveza. Had I been enjoying a British sausage, I might not have felt the same.
Contrary to the weather forecast, the sun actually came out this afternoon and we returned to the hotel pool whereupon I feel asleep repeatedly, snoring myself awake or being kicked awake by she who must be obeyed.
Going back to beach nudity, I have noted in recent years the decline in topless sunbathing to the extent that ladies these days are more inclined to keep their assets hidden. Good for them, I say. Indeed, it seems desperately old hat, if that’s the right expression, for ladies to be topless these days. However, yesterday’s bare breasts are today’s bare bottoms and the essential fashion item these days is the old fashioned thong. This is unquestionably a fashion choice for ladies over here. Men, somewhat regrettably, opt for the total nudity option and – this has to be said – willy waving among men who really shouldn’t be willy waving. Men of a certain age, which is to say most of us, would do well to keep all of our assets hidden, no matter what we think the mirror is showing us.
Another day of lethargy awaits and as an old friend often tells me: “I love doing fuck all.” That’s tomorrow in a nutshell.
