That Blog: Because Lanzarote.
by, 6th September 2012 at 05:55 AM (384 Views)
Allow me, if I may, to wrap up my holiday that ended yesterday, and allow me to do so in such a way that disproves a certain annoying something prevalent in modern media.
Did I make memories? YES.
Did I have to buy a kitchen to do so? NO.
Did I have to buy kitchen furniture or appliances to do so? NO.
Did I have to buy a bathroom to do so? NO.
Did I have to buy bathroom furnishings or fittings to do so? NO.
...Am I sure I made memories?! YES.
Though Friday, Saturday and Monday nights were a bit of a blur.
Checkmate, B&Q, Homebase, Wickes, and so on.
What I found most striking about Lanzarote, though, was the wild cactus population. Seriously. If you look in someone's back garden, it's basically a 50-50 chance as to whether they're growing trees, or cacti. And there was one place just casually, randomly growing peas. Why? I don't know.
Something that did bother me while I was there was how cold the hotel pool was. It wasn't pleasantly cool to counterpoint the Canarian heat; no, it was freezing. How?! It's a wide-open dish of water, out in the sun all freaking day, not too far from a large volcano! How can the water be so cold despite being heated from both above and below?! Spanish logic!
Some good did come of the pool, though. And by 'good', I mean 'childishly amusing'. The hotel provides inflatable toys for the amusement of the pool users. And this 8-year-old Irish girl grabs a pair of footballs, holds them to her chest, and declares, "Look, I've got FFs!". Meanwhile, on another day, some lad in his early twenties does the same thing with the footballs, except he declares this far less eloquently, and his choice of words still makes me smile.
"Look, I've got girl-boobs!"
Many a was had between my father and me at that point.
...Of course, all of this is just the edited highlights. I could go on about the tedious journey there and back, or how the car battery was dead when we arrived, so we didn't get home until 2AM, or what happened on the nights that my father and I had...perhaps a bit too much to drink...But I can't be bothered. I'd tell you, if you cared, to read my autobiography, but I don't have one. You might as well try looking for tartan paint. The difference is, you might actually find the latter.
So, in closing, since I'm so lazy, I'll leave anyone who's reading this with the notion of an idea my father and I had while walking down the Avenida de las Playas: we should totally open a speedboat-hire shop that sells T-shirts, and call it "FLUBALUBALUB: Happy Motorboating Limited". And that has become our in-joke. On that note, I'm done writing more crap that nobody will read, so, until next time that I decide to do more of the same, I'm...done.
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