To Puerto Del Carmen with Sheila at the wheel of her finy Fiat. She deposited us in the centre of things. Had a few drinks with John at the Bagatelle Bar. He wants to buy an apartment costing £16,000. Sheila looked nervous as he set out, cigar in mouth, to see his bank manager. She says life is always like this. John really should be a millionaire, but isn't quite there yet. We left Sheila and went off and had lunch in an open bar. Me grilled prawns and Ally a fish salad which she poked at. Not good. Back for a siesta.
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| At Macher, Lanzarote |
This evening we dined at La Finca with J & S, Julian and Hilary. Steak again. I don't mind Julian with his university style sense of humour. I expected a whoopee cushion at any moment. Hilary however is an absolute cow who mocks our Yorkshire accent. Why do people do this? Do we fall about in hysterics when we meet someone from Wiltshire? John, sensing the disapproval, got his own back and asked her where she was born. She went red and after a pause said 'Virginia Water', which was of course a lie. She's obviously from Manchester. She said Virginia Water just to impress John with whom she flirts terribly. Sheila sat looking daggers across the dining table. John really shouldn't encourage the woman. The most amusing thing about La Finca was the singer providing the background music. Horrendous stuff which had us in hysterics. A lousy singer slaughtering all the classics. We asked the waitress for the singer's identity and she says 'Peter Hoffman'. None the wiser. Hilary wanted to dance, but we didn't. Home and to bed.
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