Well, in just over a week i’ll be jetting off on holiday to Mallorca*. So excited. Im going with Dylan. Yes my 3 month old relationship is going abroad. Gulp. Ok, the man and haven’t exactly been conventional in our relationship to date. Note that our first mini break together was T in the Park – we survived camping, not washing for 3 days, mud, wellies, midgies, dry shampoo, dodgy burgers, neds, queues and horrendous smells (plus a load of shit-hot bands). We survived that. I think we can survive Mallorca.

However, why we chose Mallorca I don’t know. I really can’t stand the Brits abroad** thing. Lager louts, football shirts, egg and chips, Boddingtons beer. Why bother going abroad? Where is the culture – ours isn’t exactly exciting so why the hell do we insisting in taking it with us every where we go? Oh plus Im not really a beach person. 1 hour – ok. 2 hours – bit of a swim – ok. 3 hours. Going completely insane with boredom. And I have a sore arse from lying on the sand. Ok, I haven’t quite explained this to the man yet.

Anyways, we aren’t going to a beach resort, so that helps. It is supposedly a compromise. Im not good at compromise… (at least im honest, I haven’t quite explained this yet either) I’ve booked an apartment in Palma de Mallorca itself, mainly to avoid the ‘Brits abroad thing’ but also for decent local’s bars, proper clubs (i.e. no foam parties), and real tapas rather than egg and chips, chicken and chips, fish and chips and the occasional paella….

Miss S x

* just in case im caught up in a frenzy of packing etc and I don’t blog before I go. I probably will tho. Its just that its Friday afternoon and im rather excited about my holiday. Please bear with me.

** brit abroads. yuck…