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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