73 Ibiza

Crikey, these birthdays whizz by. I keep thinking I'm about 16 or 26, but, buggaire moi, here I am at bleedin' 73. How the hell did that happen?! Anyways, to celebrate, recover from shock or to drown one's sorrows at reaching this milestone, I did what I did last year and the year before that and the year before that etc.: run off to Formentera with Geo and Don for a two week escape. Cost an arm and a leg this year with travelling at high season and the dramatic collapse of the pound against the euro, but what the heck, one's only old and decrepid once (if one's fortunate enough to stagger into old age).

Took a load of photos with the mobile phone thingy; far too many to load up in a single blog posting so I thought I'd split them into three - Ibiza, Formentera and grub'n'odds. Ibiza first.

Dropped Hamish off at the local doghouse on Friday 16 August. Set off for Lyon airport Saturday lunchtimeish. Had a bad start: unbeknown to me Georgie had put her carefully packed wheelybag behind the car in readiness for a quick getaway, so when I reversed out I inadvertently drove over it. Luckily no damage but it could have been a disaster. Ahem..., flew (easyJet flight booked way back in February) late to Ibiza. Arrived at the backstreet hotel (also booked February) at around 11 pm, presumably just as the hordes of youth were preparing to go out disco grooving. Had some grub in the warm open air at the Hard Rock caff in the busy central boulevard (it's an old habit), then assumed the horizontal below a spinning ceiling fan back at the hotel.

Next morning (Sunday) we trundled around in the sunshine. Had coffee and vino rosado sitting outside the caff we always visit (at the start of the climb up to the old town on high) but the name of which always escapes moi. We'd booked the car hire in Formentera for around 3pm so we had time to kill before hopping onto the ferry from Ibiza. Did a bit of killing by slobbing about under the palm trees of the corner caff on the dockside - again, another part of our Ibiza routine. People watching is a great way to pass the time. Amazing how many vain buggers are covered in tattoos nowadays. No comprendo that fad. Makes no sense to me.

Time waits for no man, and nor does the ferry. Missed our intended bateau so caught the next one half an hour later. One of the great joys of being a geriatric old fart is that one qualifies for half price boat fare. Marvellous. Decisions decisions: to sit inside in air conditioned luxury or outside in blazing hot sunshine? As always we opted for outside, despite the threat of painful sunburn. Hats on. We're on our way.