Feeling rough and grotty I awoke fully clothed on top of the bed at 11am. John and Chris are lecturing me in a sarcastic manner on the subject of 'burning the candle at both ends', and making belittling remarks about me in general. I told them that John had been a good deal worse on Monday, and lied my head off when I said at least I hadn't been sick. They didn't know I'd deposited my vomit over the balcony.
At 12 we have an appointment with Doris and Ivy on the terrace, and after one Coca Cola Doris persuaded me to return to my bed. I do so readily, and sleep until 3pm, missing my lunch. Recover sufficiently in the afternoon to take a dip in the sea, and then the pool, and by dinner time I'm OK.
Back to the Caracola Club in the evening and meet a completely new bunch of women. They're from Carlisle this time. The ones we had on Monday incidentally were little Kent dwellers. John and Chris depart at 3, but I stay until 5am doing Spanish dancing with the locals and smoking my bloody head off.
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