Thursday July 20, 1978

Our last full day in San Antonio. Tonight we went out to celebrate Sue's birthday. Chippy and Gus met a group of girls from Dublin, and Dave and I, Sue and Pete chatted with Ken and a couple of girls, whose names escape me, in the bar at the El Capone.

At 11:30pm the four of us said godbye to Jed and Co and we headed for the square near the fountains. At the stroke of midnight Sangria was ordered and we prepared for our last serious drink of the holiday. Isn't it ghastly?

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Wednesday July 19, 1978

Dave G goes frying chickens with Jed and the Rick Organisation. Ken was greatly impressed and he offered Dave a position with them next year. He didn't commit himself. He must be raving mad. I'd leap at the chance to evacuate England and so too would Dave when it comes down to it.

Back at the hotel Dave asked me: "How about next year, then?". I was stunned really because I never thought they'd accept me but Dave seems to think they were so impressed with his display of 'chefmanship' that we could both come out next season on our own terms. Who knows?

I can see difficulties ___________________.

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Tuesday July 18, 1978

Things have been different {on holiday} this year than I would have imagined. ________.

Monday July 17, 1978

Dave, Sue, Pete and I went by bus to Ibiza Town and then on to Portinatx. The latter is a quiet but beautiful place surrounded by hills and with a wonderful coastline. It's just the place for Lynn and Dave and an ideal place for a honeymoon. We managed to get a few photos of the place and three or four of the hotels, but I couldn't remember the name of the place where Lynn and Dave are booked in. We only spent a couple of hours there. I had to keep my shoulders shrouded.

Dave G's been invited by Jed to accompany him to a barbecue on Wednesday to roast about 150 chickens for the beach party, and if it's a success who knows what might happen? Dave would love to come and work in Ibiza, but he needs the push ~ like we all do. I'm sure he wouldn't come out here alone, but with an able bodied assistant chef who knows where it might lead?

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Sunday July 16, 1978

Pam, who came (to Ibiza) the same day as we did with an open ticket until October, packed up and returned to Nottingham today because she is so disillusioned with Rick & Co. She's sad about how San Antonio has altered over the past couple of years. How can Nottingham be better! My God, things must be bad if the likes of Pam pack up after just one week. She took Chippy on one side and bought him a drink and we all said goodbye. Jed took her luggage to the airport and off she went ~ leaving her address and phone number with Chippy.

Nasty incident in the square in San Antonio tonight. Peter insulted a party of Germans, who took it very well and just laughed at him. Oh the embarrassment. He kept insisting that they (the Germans) should be gassed, their skin made into handbags and lamp shades, &c. Quite terrible. Dave G was furious. Sue went off home in disgust.

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Saturday July 15, 1978

St. Swithun's Day. It didn't rain in Ibiza. In fact, from the look of things I don't think it has rained here for years. Never before have I suffered so much from the heat. Even Dave G, who is terribly susceptible to the sun, is in a better state than me.

Have I mentioned that topless bathers are everywhere this year? A few dropped their bikini tops last year but this year it's easier to count the ladies with tops on rather than off. Sue, British to the end, absolutely refused to discard any essential items of clothing, and says she's proud of the fact she isn't a sheep. However, some of the females are ghastly and would look much better covered up. Chippy is very frustrated because he hasn't managed to get his end away with abybody. He says he's been out~classed by the jet~setters. Anyone with such a low opinion of themselves, and with such a defeatist attitude, doesn't deserve to get anywhere.

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Friday July 14, 1978

I had very little sleep. My shoulders are greeny yellow, and pouring with guck. My first action today was to consult Dr Chippy. He came to my room, clad only in his underpants, and carrying a tube of magic, white powder, a series of needles and anti-septic cream. I almost fainted. He burst my remaining blisters and then we made our way to the bar to get properly anaesthetised.

Yesterday "Doctor" Chippy was the hero of the hour on the beach when he put a dislocated shoulder back into position following a 'tug~of~war' accident on the beach. He was immediately acclaimed as the "Beach Party Doctor" and Pam, for one, looked at him with doe~eyed wonderment and affection assuring his chances with her this night.

Why is it that women fall for medical men? Even men like Chippy who only look after mental patients?

I met Jacq a year ago today in the El Capone Bar, or was it the Pavement?

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Thursday July 13, 1978

Beach party again. It's more of a rip off this year than ever with virtually no booze and Rick behaving like Adolf Hitler. Susis, bless her, says quite openly that Rick literally has "no balls". However, Gus and I have decided that he's got a brown painted hollow false leg down which he dangles all his equipment because quite frankly he does seem to be lacking in the trouser department. His voice isn't particularly high pitched, and by repute he seems to have success laying the female talent.

Sue enjoyed the boat trip and hit it off with Jed who called her "Skipper" (she was champ of the skipping contest which took place on the beach).

I rubbed oil into my shoulders (they'd peeled), and played around with a dog on the sand which had pinched one of my sandals. I was slightly sore. Coming back on the boat we got chatting with some ladies ~ one called Shelley ~ and we laughed about a couple sitting close by who were performing strange and wonderful things beneath a towel.

Later we met the girls at the El Capone and I latched onto Shelley. Gus's girl was really pretty and looked like an Edwardian gaeity girl. We took them to the Kings Bar and the Extasis. All was going well and then in a moment of passion Shelley grabbed my shoulders and green slime and pus oozed forth and squelched over my shirt. I was in absolute agony.


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Wednesday July 12, 1978

Orangemen's Day

Bank Holiday Northern Ireland

After deposting Tina at her hotel and arranging to meet her at 10pm tonight I drifted back to the S'Estanyol and changed into my beach wear and flat cap and went out into the sun.

Sue and Pete came down for breakfast and discovered me ~the solitary sunbather ~ quite alone on the sand. Dave came down later and suggested going for a drink. What a bloody good idea. We went to Hilary's cafe and knocked back pints of beer in the shade of a palm tree for the morning.

After lunch we moved to the bar on the beach. I was sloshed out of my brains by now. After all, I'd had no sleep and this Jagermeister is something of an unknown quantity. Pam and Rick were in the bar. They think we are pissed all the time.

I was in no fit state to meet Tina and at her hotel she played 'hard to get' and said she was wasn't leaving the hotel until midnight and going straight to the Playboy club. I waved bye bye to this one. Nobody mucks me about. So once again I'm playing the field. Once again this delectable human being is unattached and on his own.

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Tuesday July 11, 1978

I think we went by boat to Cala Conta. Previous holidays have never been quite so hot as this one. It's unbearable.

Tonight Gus, Chippy and I ended up in Es Paradis again, but when Chippy fell in love and asked one of the local women to marry him I'd had enough and proceeded to set out on foot in a homeward direction. It was after 3am anyway.

Wending my way across San Antonio I had the fortune to overtake what I mistook to be a party of German ladies, and as I passed by the ring leader, in husky tones, said: "Keep on swinging, man", at which they all fell about in hysterics. I immediately set upon them, and they linked arms with me and I escorted them to their hotel. A taxi came to a grinding halt and out leapt Gus and Chippy, who accosted a couple of the girls for themselves. However, I hung on to the attractive spokesperson called Tina with the deep voice, who informed me that they are in fact Dutch.

We went with the ladies to their hotel and Tina emerged into the garden ( or whatever you call the bit of patio around the swimming pool) with a bottle of Jagermeister, a Dutch liqueuer I think. After half an hour or so we were thrown out because of the noise and we took the bottles to the beach and did Travolta-like dancing on the sand. Horribly pissed. Chippy, Gus and their ladies disappeared leaving Tina and I alone to do a spot of of bathing. At 8am I took her back to her hotel.

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Monday July 10, 1978

Chippy decided to take out a bloody massive motor bike and take me round the island. I wanted to see Portinatx to give Lynn & Dave a report. We hired one for the day for £7 each and shot off to the S'estanyol to persuade the others to get one.

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Sue and Dave decided to spend the duration in the bar getting pissed, which was fair enough, and Gus and Pete took out a pair of smaller bikes, and we set off in the direction of Ibiza town. I wasn't impressed with the place, and neither was I all that happy about hanging on the back of Chippy as he hurtled at 60 or so m.p.h. across the rough, unmade roads of Ibiza.

From Ibiza Town we headed out on the Portinatx but stopping at a cafe we were told we were 50 kilometres away and we decided over a Coca Cola that our fuel supplies wouldn't stretch that far. We headed back to San Antonio.

By lunchtime I'd had enough of motor cycling and called it a day. It had been exciting but I had had sufficient. He drove like Eddie Kidd with his pants on fire. Chippy cleared off for the remainder of the afternoon.

Sue and Dave were sunbathing at the hotel and not in the least pissed like they said they would be.

Sunday July 24, 1977

7th after Trinity. Up at about ten to pack. Martyn is nowhere to be seen. A search of the hotel finds him with a bird from Otley in her room. Our room is in a diabolical condition. A red wine stain three feet high runs round the bottom of the bedroom walls. Booze and broken bottles all over the floor.

Slumbering at the airport

I loathe going home. Left for the airport at 12 noon and had hysterics on the coach with Kathyn. At Ibiza Airport we are told to prepare for an indefinite delay due to some sort of mechanical problem on board our aircraft. Allcock & Brown made their historic flight in this self same bone-shaker.

I got blind drunk. Disgustingly so. I stole a bottle of gin from the airport bar and drank most of it myself. Needless to say I vomited. My recollections of the journey home are somewhat vague other than drinking a couple of whiskies and, according to Peter Mather, fondling the air hostess.

Tony picked us up at Manchester and brought me home at about 1am. Still intoxicated.



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Saturday July 23, 1977

Our last full day. We spent the whole time on the beach to reap the benefit of our last touch of Spanish sun. Even at 5.30 when very few remained I clung to my hammock. Jacqui was with us all day.

By 6pm I was in San Antonio buying bottles of drink for Mama and a straw handbag for Darling Sue's birthday.

Group at the Hotel Pacific.

Back at the hotel having a quiet ale by the pool I was approached by a gorgeous dolly bird who wanted to know if I fancied accompanying her on an open jeep tour of San Antonio. Naturally, I was late back for dinner.

Our last wild night. To the Pavement Bar and met Jacqui and Joy. Noel and I walked them to the Hotel March and bid them a fond farewell, probably forever. The coach taking them to Ibiza Airport disappeared in a cloud of dust, and Noel and I returned to the Pavement Bar.

Had a party in my room which was riotous.Wine women and song galore. What must the other residents of the hotel have thought? It must have been about 4am when I got rid of everyone.

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Friday July 22, 1977

Felt beastly today over my behaviour last night. However, if one can't get pissed up and fall about kicking the hell out of people on holiday when indeed can one?

L to R: Chris, Martyn, Noel, Mig, John and Steve.

Oh God the time is running out fast. Two weeks gone just like that. The real painful thought is that it's probably the last wild fling until Christmas.

Oops. I haven't mentioned the change of ink, have I?

Out on the town tonight with Noel again. Met Jacqui and Joy.  Went to the Continental restaurant and bid farewell to a couple of lads from Brighton, Glen and Mick, and then on to Chac Mool and Playboy.

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Thursday July 21, 1977

Mig bewigged ....

Rick's beach party again. A really rough passage and most people didn't drink because of the ghastly rolling and swaying. However, I did manage to drink several bottles of champagne and white wine.

Noel found a wig and we fooled around - we looked remarkably like Elizabeth Taylor. Back at the hotel at about 7.30 and waited half an hour for Sue's call to come through. It was fabulous to hear her little voice all those miles away. It's her 18th (birthday) today of course. Mum says she's missing me. David B's grandmother died on July 15.

Evening: can't remember much really but I pissed off Noel and John's balcony all over the Laker Holiday representative and then went out hand-in-hand with Noel (he still dressed as Elizabeth Taylor).

Became so intoxicated that for the first time ever I became violent. Chris said something which angered me and I lashed out at him and floored him and little Anne in the process. Can I be excused because of the drink? No, not really.








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Wednesday July 20,1977

at the Hotel Pacific ....

Must remember to phone Sue tomorrow at 7.30pm.

Tuesday July 19, 1977

The lads from Brighton.....

A good day.

Monday July 18, 1977

Wrestling with Peter M.

To Cala Bassa by ferry. Get a good tan but they all joke about the wrinkles under my eyes. Martyn says I aged 20 years since leaving England. Mr Mather really annoys today by flinging sand over everyone, upturning deckchairs and burying beach mats. A childish boy he is.











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Sunday July 17, 1977

6th after Trinity. To Port d'Es Torrent, if that's how you spell it. Topless bathers on the rocks. The lovely smell of pine needles. I slept for most of the time.

Isn't it queer how we have strange dreams  while sleeping in the heat of the sun?

Sent a few postcards home but can't imagine them arriving there before I do.











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