29th April 2008. A very eventful first night, oh dear.

Tuesday 29th April 2008.

Despite a slight over indulgence last night and not getting in until the early hours I was up at seven to get everything done before the taxi came to take us to the airport. Okay, we didn't absolutely hammer the alcohol but I only ever drink vodka and am very wary of the effects any other alcohol might have on me. Still, absinthe is supposed to be an evil beast and I expected some penance for the night before. I woke cautiously, waited for the legions of hell to batter my brain against my cranium, but nothing, not an ache or a twinge or a delicacy in sight. Nice one!

I had a little wobbler worrying about leaving Marty and Nix in charge of the animals. During morning routine I gave each and every one of them, even the evil Assante, an extra few minutes of attention because I didn't know if it would be the last time that I'd see any of them. Marty sulked at my lack of faith in him and the mega guilt trip returned. I wished that he was coming with us and felt like an abandoning mother when we left.

The taxi pulled up outside and it was like stepping back in time twelve months. The same driver stood on the doorstep and Russ and I exchanged a commiserating glance. Allan, would just have to be endured for the next two hours. Sure enough, before we'd even pulled away from the kerb he began talking. He, talked, in, a, stilted, monotone, about, complete, crap ....but it didn't matter we were going on holiday and could cope with anything.

Just five miles into our journey we hit a traffic jam. There had been an accident some unknown distance ahead of us and with no side roads to escape down we just had to sit it out. After twenty minutes I began to worry a bit. We'd given ourselves plenty of time but this traffic didn't seem to be going anywhere fast.

Allan told us about an accident that he'd seen the previous week, he went into long and laborious detail and it passed another ten minutes with me (Russ had whimped out and nodded off) putting in random “um”'s at seemingly appropriate places. I had to smile when he then went on to tell me that he'd told his dad about it that night, “So I sez to me dad, I sez, there was an accident on the A590 today dad.” And then he went on to tell me every word that he'd said to his father ... the thing was, it was a verbatim account of the monologue he'd already delivered so I had to sit through it twice.

The tow trucks finally came through with the battered vehicles, an ambulance went past thankfully in no seeming rush, so I don't think anybody lost their life that morning, and, after what seemed like an eternity, we were moving again.

We made the airport in plenty of time. I had my last fag for ten hours outside the terminal, and we were in and away. We'd decided not to pay for in flight meals at an extra fifteen pounds a time. I remembered last year when we arrived in Prague late at night after not eating all day and not being able to find anywhere open after midnight that sold food. Covering all bases, this time I'd packed up an enormous picnic big enough to feed everybody on the plane. Russ said that we wouldn't be allowed to take it through departures, but we had no problem at all and only had to finish our big bottle of lucozade before we went through.

I remember years ago queuing endlessly at every stage of the system. Marty was a fractious baby and getting through the rigmarole was a two or more hour endurance test. I can't praise the efficiency of Manchester airport highly enough. We were scanned and scrutinised and through check in within ten minutes. In departures we had time for a leisurely drink of coffee, I flicked through a mindless celebrity gossip magazine and in no time at all we were on the plane.

We paid three hundred pounds for an all inclusive five star holiday,so I had no grounds to complain when Russ and I weren't seated together. I was put in an aisle seat, the two seats beside me were still empty and I felt the first stirrings of a panic attack building. What if the people beside me were the lilly livered air-sick type? I could not, sit beside some stranger who spent four hours puking into a paper bag. I concentrated on breathing and trying to mind talk myself down. I knew that if a full blown panic attack hit I'd demand that they let me off the plane and my holiday would be over before it began.

My seat mates soon arrived. We had ten minutes of shuffling and faffing to get all of their hand luggage and carrier bags stored in the over head locker. Then the first lady decided that she'd need her bottle of water out of the bag. After I'd sat down for the third time the second lady realised that she didn't have her walkman. At least having to be polite and accommodating took the raw edge off my rising phobia. Lady one in the window seat was only little, however the woman next to her made up for what the first one lacked. She was in excess of a size twenty-four. I have been that big lady and I remember that plane travel was one of the most humiliating and stressful things for a large person to endure. I felt sorry for her and tried to give her as much room as possible. If I was uncomfortable I knew that she'd feel a damned site worse. I didn't mind being cramped and squished as long as she didn't puke. The words on the page of my magazine fuzzed as I couldn't help but visualise how much digestible matter that lady's stomach could contain and what sort of acreage it might cover if it suddenly and dramatically expelled. We shared and intimate journey together being thigh to thigh, hip to hip, tit to tit. I had parts of that lady's warm, moist body against me that I had no desire to experience.

The flight passed pleasantly and almost without incident until the last drinks round. I bought myself a coffee and put it in the little ring thing on my diddy table which didn't quite go down properly because the lady's thigh was under it. We'd decided to share the one table and she balanced her drink on it too. A loud and unpleasant family were sitting in the seats in front of us. They had moaned and complained the entire trip. Thank God I'd had my coffee for about twenty minutes and had drunk most of it when the lady next to me gave a great heave to shift her position. I saw my coffee cup tilting and made a valiant effort to grab it. I missed only managing to hook it with my little finger and flick it out into the aisle of the plane. Some went on the arm of the seat in front of us, and I admit a few drops did hit the woman in front.

She jumped up shouting and yelling.

“I'm so sorry,” I said wiping at the arm of her chair with my serviette. Did it hit you?”

“Er... yeah, just a fucking bit you, stupid cow. What the fuck are you playing at?”

“Look, it was an accident, okay. I've already apologised.”

A stewardess rushed over and smoothed troubled water and turbulence. I was painfully aware that the woman was sitting next to her two year old daughter. If that coffee had been boiling hot and if the child had been sitting on her mothers knee at the time, it could have resulted in a nasty burn to her face. I did feel very guilty. But, this thought didn't even occur to Miss, It's Okay Child Benefit is Paying For My Holiday, all she was concerned about was the tiny stain (literally about three drops) on the arm of her new, hot pink velour tracksuit.

“Look what the stupid bitch has done to me.” She turned to me again, “Are you going to pay for it to be dry cleaned? Are you? Look at me, I look a right fucking state.” Well, there was no arguing with that one but I felt like pointing out to her that she sounded like a bigger one. This last round of in-flight entertainment for the passengers ended with the woman demanding compensation forms to put in a claim against the company and telling me again that her tracksuit had cost seventy quid and was ruined. Being that expensive I'm sure it is completely machine washable. I wished that the coffee had been hot enough to give the woman something to really whinge about.

I had been craving a tab for about six hours when we left the plane. There was a mass exodus for the smoking area in the airport terminal and while Russ went to watch the carosel go around I sat by indoor palm trees and inhaled my first blast of serenity in some time. I peered closely into the fronds of the palms in the hope of seeing some lizards, but if they were there they were asleep and hiding.

Again everything was fussless and fine and we were soon on a bus hurtling (I don't think Eran, our driver, had a driving license) towards our resort. I was a little bit disappointed with the weather. I'd psyched myself up for that fantastic foreign wall of intense heat that you sometimes get when you walk out of the air conditioned lobby into the first breath of a new country's climate. It didn't happen, in fact it felt a little bit chilly. I'd been looking forward to that heat wall for weeks.

The resort itself surpassed our most elaborate fantasy. It was a dream and was probably the second best hotel I'd ever stayed in and in some ways it surpassed even the Estrelle Residence in Berlin. I will give a description at some point I expect but if I try and get down a word picture of the place now I'll be writing all night. Suffice to say, it was better than even the brochure pictures, immaculately clean, picturesque, and opulent. It well lived up to its five stars and we were overwhelmed by what we'd got for three hundred pounds.

I'd been disappointed to find that we'd been placed in one of the bungalows, not as we'd hoped in the main hotel. Far from being a draw back, this turned out to be even better. The bungalows were immense and luxurious and ours was the last one before the main swimming pools and forecourt. We couldn't have been better situated, we even had both a pool and sea view from the balcony, it was perfect.

We had an eight foot wide bed, I've never seen a bed as big in my life, every night was as though we'd had an argument until we decided to only make use of one third of it. The only disappointment was that we were supposed to get a bath and a shower, crikey, the bathroom was big enough. We only had a shower. Russ knows how much I like a bath and said that he'd put in a complaint. I told him that everything was so perfect that if we couldn't make do with just showers for one week then we were the very people who I despise on holiday. Some people will go out of their way to find something to whinge and complain about. Russ wasn't going to complain for himself, he's not a bath man at all and only ever has one if we're bathing together, but he wanted everything to be perfect for me. I thought that was sweet of him. We had a golden and marble shower with about twenty power heads jetting out water and foam from all directions. We had thick soft white dressing gowns and enormous downy towels, believe me, I had nothing to complain about.

I felt grubby and wanted to shower and change but Russ was eager to go exploring. We just dumped our things and went straight out to see what the resort had to offer. Again I'm going to hold back on descriptions here. We did a circuit of the main part of the resort and then drifted into one of the bars. Russ ordered two double vodka and cokes. We had trouble with the double bit. There is no such thing as a double there. Vodka, and indeed any spirit, only comes in one size ... massive! They get a tumbler (I don't take ice) fill it two thirds with vodka and top it with a head of coke. It's not the local fire water either I was amazed to see that we were served Absolute blue. I figured that this was how they made their money, by not offering you the free option and automatically pouring the expensive stuff that you have to pay through the nose for. I nudged Russ and told him that he'd better have some money ready to pay as I hadn't brought any out with me. The drinks landed on the bar with umbrellas, fruit and straws. We later persuaded the waiters to do away with all the decorations. Russ tried to pass the barman a note and he said, “Noooo seer, it eees all free, you no pay.” This was going to take some getting used to. It wasn't even done to tip the staff. It was explained on the coach that there was a chance to offer appreciation when you check out and that all tips are divided equally between every member of staff on the workforce from the lowliest toilet cleaner to the highest manager.

I will elaborate about how fantastic the staff were later, but the service and respect that we were shown was second to none. Nothing was too much trouble. Every speck of rubbish was picked up almost before it hit the floor. Ashtrays were constantly replenished and the toilets were cleaned every five minutes it seemed.

Just off the huge bar there was a smaller smoking room, but the staff explained to us that there was a much bigger and better smoking area on the first floor. It circumnavigated the bar and was like a massive indoor balcony looking down on the rooms below. The armchairs and sofas were huge and comfy and cosy little alcoves looked out over the pools and gardens. The central tower that rose from the ground floor and up through our level had a huge clock on each of its faces. A further two clocks dominated each end wall and the glass lift rose and fell at the very back of the room. It was beautiful.

I can't tell you how good it was to travel back in time to an era where you could have a lovely warm bar area (segregated from the non smokers) a comfy chair, a vodka in one hand and a fag in the other. Oh it was sheer bliss. It's less than a year ago since we could do that in England but after a harsh winter of freezing pub doorways I couldn't get used to the novelty of it, everything was just perfect.

As we sat over our first drink before plans of drinking up and going to bed we were joined by another couple from our coach. They asked if they could join us, we all marvelled at the wonder of being able to smoke in comfort and swapped notes about what we'd seen and how impressed we all were with everything. We made jolly jokes about 'who's round' it was and the vodka flowed. I didn't drink much, I was too tired but Russ and our new friends took full advantage. We got onto the subject of home life and work and when I said that I managed a sex shop, Judy relaxed a bit and let her best behaviour mask slip. “Oh you're all right you two, we thought you were dead posh,” she said. Ha and they are the ones who come form the better part of Cheshire. It was decided that they all wanted to go down to the nightclub in the basement. I was in my travelling clothes, my hair caught up in a ponytail bun, no make-up on. I said that I'd go and get changed and see them down there. I was dead tired but I was also curious to see what the club was like.

“Oh, you're okay as you are, come on, we'll just go down and see what it's like.” Huh easy for her to say, she was petite, blonde and immaculate. She was the type who never left the house without a three hour grooming session and wouldn't be seen dead around the pool without a three month prior intensive fry up on a sun bed. She was designer head to toe while I wore comfy black jeans a t-shirt and my signature black schoolgirl pumps. Still not wanting to be a party pooper I conceded. Judy and Pierce were good fun and we enjoyed their company. They got very drunk, those three more than me because I do know my limits and am always fearful at the back of my mind of the vomit factor. Those drinks were mighty strong and I was happy on just coke even if the vodka was free. We danced and got silly and had a really good night. Until....

I mentioned that we wanted to take in some of the yoga classes on offer and said that Russ and I do a lot of yoga at home. “Oh are you good at it then?” I suddenly felt a bit silly. I'd just said that we often do yoga but then had to admit that neither of us was very good. She asked if I can do the lotus position. Unfortunately I'd just happened to hit on her party piece. The next thing I knew she had knotted herself into the lotus on her chair. “Come on Jane, you do it too and we'll make a lotus mountain,” she chivvied. Now I can do the lotus adequately, but not without warming up my old muscles first. A few years ago showing off at a party I'd flung myself into a lotus cold and ripped my hamstring. Russ was egging me on. “Go on Jane, you can do that, go on.” Bearing in mind that I was tired and therefore non too gentle. I took my first foot firmly in hand and yanked it easily onto my opposite thigh, so far so good. Then I took my other foot, lifted it high to clear my leg and pulled with far too much force to get it as far as possible on top of the other one.

I heard a sickening pop. There was a familiar three seconds of nothingness as my screaming nearve edings sent messages to my brain that the silly cow in charge of them had gone and done it again. And then a searing pain shot the length of my leg. It felt floppy and loose. I went light headed and felt nauseous with the pain, but most of all I was trying to hide what had just happened to me. “Sorry, I'm out, my poor old bones aren't co-operating tonight. Think I'll save it for the classes,” I said, while very gently un-knotting myself. I never learn. I'd done the same thing as I'd done five years earlier, same leg too only this time it was my knee not my hamstring. I was damned grateful this time when a monster vodka arrived in front of me and downed it rapidly to try and numb the pain. I literally couldn't move and while I sat there wondering how the hell I was going to get from chair in nightclub to bed without making a complete fool of myself, Judy flung herself down on the floor, still in the lotus position and walked on her knees onto the dance floor ... her party piece was complete while the room looked on she boogied on down with some interesting disco and hip-hop moves in a perfect lotus position. I could never have done that in a million years. Even virtually paralytic her control and balance was amazing. I was envious as hell.

We were the last ones in the club. The waiters and bar staff were ultra respectful at all times, but they must have been thinking, 'Oh God, here we go, a new batch of greedy drunken Brits who will spend the week abusing the hospitality of the all inclusive drink. Wankers!' They showed ultra respect but they must have had a very low opinion of us, I would have done. They were so nice.

Finally I couldn't put if off any longer I had to move. I honestly didn't think I was going to be able to walk but when I stood up, although I was in a fair to reasonable amount of pain, I was amazed that it wasn't too bad at all and gave thanks to the God of alcohol. I managed to maintain my dignity and walk out of the club and didn't have to be carried. I still figured that it may well be a hospital job once the swelling set in properly. I knew I was going to be in big trouble the next day. I think my saving grace was what came next.

We invited Judy and Pierce up to our room. We were walking along the most amazing beam and bourgainvillia arbour walkway to our bungalow. It was so beautiful. At the end of the wooden corridor shimmered a vast swimming pool. It was so big that it's boundaries were out of sight in either direction. The walkway simply ended in a few feet of paving that led directly into the pool, we should have branched off the walkway at the last intersection for our room. The pool was lit with fairy lights and live candles and lanterns. There was an enormous fountain in the centre of the pool and the overall effect was magical. I looked at Jude and we never said a word. Russ and Pierce were walking very slightly behind us and Russ caught the look. He knew exactly what was going through my mind and later said that I'm so transparent. I heard him say, “Oh shit!”

The next thing I knew Judy and I were holding hands and running the last few feet of the walkway (bugger the dilapidated knee) and we launched ourselves, fully clothed into the pool, closely followed by Pierce. Russ was far too sensible to join us and flatly refused to come in. Firstly it was stupid because we had no idea how deep it was. Secondly it was stupid because we were drunk.

I expected to be able to touch the bottom and was a bit shocked to find that I couldn't. I came up floundering, the water was absolutely, bloody, freezing. It had completely taken my breath away from me. The first few seconds were horrendous and I was in trouble as the shock of the cold water hit me. After that I managed to get my limbs under control and tread water until I was able to swim. The cold water had a wonderfully sobering affect and I have to say it was one of the most exhilarating experiences that I've had in years. My entire body was tingling and it felt so bloody good. It was amazing. Although I was stupid some modicum of sense remained. I did warn the others not to go too far out in case they got into trouble. They were far more drunk than me and it was a very big pool. It would be very easy to drown in it. Pierce wanted to go down the huge water slide, now that would have been stupid. I talked him out of it and we just swam around for five or ten minutes while Russ looked on nervously. A waiter passed us while we were splashing about. He looked at us and then we heard him running along the walkway. Figuring that we might just be about to get into trouble I suggested that it was time we got out and made my way back to the ladder. I had loved every second of it. What was unintentionally good about it was that I saved myself a heck of a lot of trouble with my knee by giving it that soaking in the freezing water. I think it helped to prevent some of the swelling. The three of us were standing on the pool edge dripping wet and laughing like loons while Russ looked on in disgust, when sure enough the waiter returned with a big burly security guard in tow.

The man sized up the situation. Four people, drunk, two males and one of them quite big (not Russ). I think he anticipated trouble and I was alarmed to see his hand drop onto a lethal looking truncheony thing hanging from his pants. Oh oh.

He plastered a smile on his face but he obviously saw no humour in the situation and the smile nowhere near reached his eyes.

I smiled a tentative smile and walked towards him. “Er, Hallo,” I muttered like a naughty schoolgirl caught masturbating in a convent.

“Oi why don't you go for a swim fellas,” yelled Jude, “it's bloody lovely in there.”

“Is you is all right here madam?” said the security guard still smiling disarmingly, but still holding onto his battering stick.

“Yes, I'm so sorry. I hope we didn't disturb anybody,” I looked down at my dripping clothes that were leaving a puddle on the pristine poolside. I felt naughty and maybe just a little bit ashamed of myself, but also I felt a giggle building up and it wouldn't go back down no matter how hard I tried to quell it. “We um just, er, kind of went for a little, um swim,” I finished lamely. It was all beginning to feel very undignified and Russ' face was a picture.

The guard's smile widened and was about as warm as the pool had been and his hand tightened. “Zis is wery wery bad. Issa, Issa,” This seemed to mean follow me and he led us over to a sign the size of a Piccadilly Circus billboard situated less than ten feet from where we were standing. It said something to the effect of, 'After eight thirty at night, due to the chemicals put in the pool for cleaning purposes it is advised that the pool is very dangerous and not to be used. '

I think I said, “oops,” before collapsing into another fit of giggles as I imagined my hair turning green and my skin peeling away.

He turned to Russ, “You good man, you not wet, you tell issa one, issa one, issa one,” he pointed to the three of us in turn and issa seemed to be his universal word for anything that he couldn't articulate. “iz not good. Poolz and dreenks iz no no no, yes?”

Russ pointed at me and said, “I can't tell this one anything, she won't listen to me. But it won't happen again officer.” Him calling the security bloke 'officer' cracked me up again.The man looked at me with a look that said that if I was his woman he'd make me do. And I had the naughty thought of, I bet you would too darlin'. The thought of being dominated by this big smiling turk was quite a pleasant one unitl he said, “Iz wery bad.” and I decided that if I did live with him I'd buy a goldfish and call it Victor Voodoo, just to piss him off. The other three were still muttering apologies as we sloshed off back up the walkway leaving our carbon footprints to betray our crime. I was still mulling over the possibility of finding a goldfish in Belek.

From there on in the night went from bad to worse. Jude and Pierce didn't stay long. We offered them a change of clothes each and while Pierce borrowed shorts and a shirt from Russ, Jude flatly refused to get out of her wet clothes. The second they left I stripped out of my soaking clothes. During the process of trying to get my heacvy wet jeans off I managed to tear my right thumb nail back on itself. Within ten minutes a huge purple bruise had appeared beneath the nail. Another war wound to drive me mad tomorrow. I was freezing cold by now and shivering. Once my clothes were off I had got as far as putting a vest and a thong on when Russ noticed that they'd left their room key behind. I ran out onto the balcony to try and head them off. Russ followed, realising that I only had a vest to protect my modesty I hid behind Russ. We were just in time to see them disappearing back up the stairs. We tried to whisper shout them but they didn't hear. I rushed to get back into the room so that I could get into bed and not be half naked when they came back.

Disaster... the door had locked behind us. We were stuck out on a tiny wooden balcony in the freezing cold and not only was I still soaking wet I had nothing on but a tiny sun vest and a triangle of lace.I told Russ to just stay in front of me to shield me and we'd just wait for them to tire of knocking and catch them on the way back down.

They knocked for ages and must have wondred why the hell we were ignoring them. This struck me as funny too and I was off laughing again. Finally we heard their footsteps on the stairs. Russ and I were arguing, He only had a pair of shorts on and my reasoning was that it would be better for him to be caught naked rather than me. He disagreed. We waited for them to re-appear so that they could go to reception and get us some help ...

Disaster number two, they took the back way out.

It was four o'clock in the morning. It was cold. I was wet and virtually naked. Russ wasn't much better and we were locked out on the balcony. I was hysterical as the comedy of our situation sank in. Russ was furious and didn't see the funny side at all.

Luckily we didn't have to wait long until one of the room service waiters came along wheeling a trolley. He looked incredibly dense and didn't seem to grasp that we were actually stuck on the balcony and not just having high tea, but eventually he got the message. But rather than going off to get help he used his walkie talkie to radio it in and then just stared up at us as though we were lunatics. I couldn't stop laughing and Russ was getting more irritated with me which only made me worse.

After waiting another five minutes a familiar figure came into view. It was the same security guard. Well that was it for me. I couldn't stop laughing. “Excuse me,” I shouted down between splutters and while still hiding behind Russ. “Cooee, it's us again. Can you help us please, we're stuck? We're really, really sorry to bother you.”

“Shut up,” hissed Russ, you're just making it worse. Don't say another word.

The security guard was still smiling broadly but his face clearly said, 'dickheads.'

I dread to think how many neighbours we woke up with our loutish behaviour.

I couldn't even stop laughing when we got into bed. Every time I thought about him walking up the stairs with his pass key at the ready saying, “zis is wery, wery bad,” it set me off again.

Once he was inside and our humiliation was over Russ forgave me for locking us out.

Er hang on a minute ... he was the last one out on that balcony .. not me!

We'd had our cards well and truly marked and we'd only been there three hours.