Viva Espana

We've been back from Mallorca just over a week, and already it seems like a lifetime ago. What a wonderful holiday. We (Laura and me) were guests of Sarah, Thomas and Harry, along with Heather, Sue and Lisa.

Pictures (all 116 of 'em) can be found here.

Actually, I have to confess, it did almost turn into the holiday from hell. It started when we rolled up at the airport. Auntie Sue was travelling with us. We joined the Jet2.com queue...at which point I discovered I'd left the passports, tickets and money at home. Cue meltdown. Peter had to drive back to Harroagte...Mum was dispatched to our house to collect said items, and meet him en route. He got back to the airport with about 5 minutes to spare. A sterling effort.

Palma Airport was actually fairly quiet. However, the bags still took forever to arrive. Sue went to queue for the hire car. There were maybe 5 people in front of her. Not to worry...we had to wait for the rest of the gang to arrive on the Manchester flight...which they duely did. Sue still in queue for car. Sarah joins Sue while we wait for their bags. Sue and Sarah still in queue for car. Nearly two hours later (yes..I'l say it again....2 hours) we get our cars. Nightmare. Do not ever ever book with Record.

Not to worry. Can't get any worse. Let head off to the villa. Except....despite having booked a Belingo, Sue is issued with a Citroen Crappo (?)....7 seats (!)...automatic...no handbreak....left hand drive. Even the girl in the office couldn't work out how to drive it so she replaced it with a ..Berlingo.

Not to worry. Can't get any worse. Let's just fill up the tank and go....except we only saw the sign for the petrol station as we drove past it and headed onto the motorway. Short detour and we're back at the petrol station.

Not to worry. Can't get any worse. Sue gets the hang of driving on the WRONG side of the road. Doing a stonking job. Until, the car in front takes an exit off the motorway, oh...then changes his mind and shoots back onto the main carriageway. Sue breaks, and the ABS kicks in. We are swerving across two lanes...and I am using some charming anglo-saxon to express my dissatisfaction with aforementioned useless driver. I am now just waiting with horror for Laura to come out with the same expression!

Not to worry. Can't get any worse (are you getting the hang of this?) Sarah unlocks door to villa, switches off alarm...or at least tries...but had the code slightly wrong.....we have visions of the police swarming up any minute......

Luckily, it didn't get any worse.....it was a fabulous trip...lovely house, wonderful company, glorious weather, didn't want to come home.

Almost didn't come home! Got to airport on Friday.....departures board....18.25 to LBA CANCELLED. Luckily, after a few heart-stopping minutes....it turned out to be a mistake. Soemthing to do with an early problem with a Newcastle flight.

Roll on May 2008, when the Pushchair Posse regroup!

The squeamish may wish to look away now

I broke my toe! I haven't ever broken a bone - not in 42 years. Pity my first break was as unimpressive as my little toe (right foot). So, I have never had a proper plaster cast - not even when I dislocated my knee. That was just a crepe bandage and a thing to hold the leg straight - I'm sure it has a proper name. It was a blue felt caliper, for want of the correct terminology.

This time, I get a bit of stuff between my toes and some sticky tape. But, man, look at that bruise!


I did it by stubbing my toe on the door jamb in the bedroom, on the way back from the shower. Slippers from now on, I suppose.

I am flying out to Germany this afternoon. I am wondering if I can blag a ride on one of those golf carts at Schipol Airport!