Friday August 22, 1975

Our last day here, and what sort of weather do you think we had? Well, I'll tell you. It rained, and rained, and absolutely pissed it down all day long, and the three of us sat around in the bar ridding ourselves of our last few pesetas on drink.
The German party got themselves into a drunken state, but I suppose they do it without thinking. The licensing laws in 'bier' swilling Hamburg will differ somewhat to those in Harrogate.

After dinner we sit with Sue and Jackie (the sheilas from London) but John and Chris tire easily of their company, leaving me with two drunken women on my hands. Before I know what is happening they have me on my feet and are dragging me off to the Caracola Club, where they proceed to pay my admission. I didn't really want to stay long because of the travelling tomorrow and so I sneaked out at about 1.30, knowing I'd never see any of them again. Sad, really.

Oh, by the way: the big, blue lounger with Queen Anne legs was deposited by me into the lift and despatched to the ground floor in the early hours of Aug 23rd. It finished off my evening nicely.

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Tuesday August 19, 1975

I wake up at about 10 but don't really think the others could possibly do the same after the events of this morning, i.e. from 2am onwards. After crawling past us last night in the bar they helped each other up to our room and dissolved into fits of laughter. When I'd rid myself of the women, and two cheese toasted sandwiches and several gallons of Coca Cola later, I went up to the room and John said he wanted another drink. We went down to the bar where he had a pernod and I had a beer. At 3am we came back to the room, and immediately John said he was going out again. This he did, and half an hour later he rolled in after even more drink. I helped him into bed and switched off the light. Chris hadn't stirred all the time this was going on.

At 10am then I was surprised to see Chris alive, well, and kicking. Leaving John deep in sleep we go down to the bar. Chris goes off to buy a newspaper and comes back with 'The Sun' of all things and shows me the headlines on page one. 'Princess Anne gets obscene phone calls'. This really is too much. First they try to kidnap and kill her, and now it's dirty phone calls. How did some pervert manage to lay hands on the princess's private number? The Post Office says that Special Branch are listening in to all her phone calls.

Stayed at the Manchester Arms until quite late in the evening and walked Denise and Diane home to their so-called hotel. No Caracola Club until dawn, and come back to the Osiris for a couple of drinks.

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Sunday August 17, 1975

Up at 9am, or at least I was. John and Chris remained asleep until well after 11, but me being the athletic type makes staying abed all morning an impossibility. Sit in the hot sun with a lemonade, and Sue and Jackie from Chiswick join me later.

See in yesterday's Daily Mail that the Birmingham Pub Bombers got life imprisonment. Also saw that London had its worst rain in 100 years. Over six inches fell in under 24 hours!! It makes going abroad seem well worth while when reading items like that.

Chris and I take out tradition dip in the Med after lunch, and at about 4pm it begins to rain & does so for about an hour. We stay in the sea for the major part of it and watch the thunder and lightning crack and flash over the Majorcan hills. Return to the hotel greatly refreshed and the place feels a good deal more healthy for the cool rainwaters.

Don't go to the Caracola Club in the evening, or at least Chris and I don't, and instead we stay in the Manchester Arms until after 1am with Diane and Denise, from Carlisle. They drink pints of lager and I'm on straight pernod. Diane goes home to sleep at about 1.30 and Chris goes off for a walk with Denise. I make my way back to the hotel and clamber into bed where I sleep soundly, undisturbed by the drunken arrival of John at 5am.

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Saturday August 16, 1975

Once again to the Caracola in the evening. Dance with a beautiful German girl, but we fade out because of language difficulties. If only I'd taken in all that rubbish Mr Martin used to reel out to us at Benton Park. But alas, you don't think of things like that when you're cooped up in class.

Chris leaves early and Denise and Diane from Carlisle come after he's gone. I'm astounded to hear from Denise that ______went round to her hotel room this afternoon, had a few drinks and stormed out after an argument. Why didn't he tell us? ______.

I leave at 2 and come back and sit with a couple of birds from Salford and a drunken bloke from London. They are all stoned, and when a woman from the fifth floor yells down at us to be quiet, one of the girls screams: 'piss off!' at the top of her voluminous voice. I laughed at the crudeness of it all.

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Thursday August 14, 1975

A really hot day, and I fear we've been doing too much sunbathing. My chest and legs are white hot, and I'm on the verge of collapse. Why have I spent over £100 to burn myself and see my flesh fall off?

Meet two girls from Chiswick called Sue and Jackie. Down at the Caracola Club we are in the midst of a nasty incident when all the women we've had this week arrive on the scene at the same time. John ends up with 'Chiswick Sue', Chris has 'Carlisle Denise' and I have 'Carlisle Nameless'. I was so intoxicated I cannot remember her name. We had a great time and Chris and I go back to the Carlisle girls room in a local hotel. I end up falling asleep until 7.30, and then me and Chris stagger back to our hotel to the jeers of the Spanish cleaning ladies who are just starting work. Fall into bed with the prospect of one hours sleep ahead of us.

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Monday August 11, 1975

The pattern now seems to have set. We lounge around all day without a care in the world. In the pool for half an hour, and flat out on a camp bed or lounger for the next half an hour, and then repeat.

John drank too much and was violently sick all over the bedroom after returning from the Caracola Club at 3am. Not a pretty sight.

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Saturday August 9, 1975

Get into Victoria Coach Station at 5am and immediately make enquiries about how to get to Heathrow. An amiable little porter directs us to a British Airways terminal and we get a bus direct to the airport at 6 o'clock. We make our way to the departure place, and what a relief it is to find Chris waiting! Success! We'd made it! (Forgive the Queen Victoria style punctuation). You have no idea what it meant to know that no hitch had arisen.

Fly at 8.05am. Unforgetable experience. The plane was quite smaller than I imagined it would be. John was near the window, Chris in the middle and I was in the aisle. The sun was brilliant above the thundery London sky, and two hours later we were in the heat at Palma airport. John's case came on another flight, and we messed about for hours waiting for it.

The hotel was reached by about 3pm and we were impressed by it. After all, it is a two star one.

Have two great meals before going out on the town. Find a discotheque called the Caracola Club, and stay until 2am. I am asbolutely sure we shall all have the time of our lives here in Majorca.

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