Wednesday August 13, 1975

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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Tuesday August 12, 1975

A terrible drunken occassion. At 7.30 we, that is John, Chris, me and 30 others from the hotel went to the Barbecue. When I say 'the barbecue' I mean the weekly piss-up in the open air for the tourists - the sort of thing that's the same at resorts all over Europe. John and Chris didn't get drunk at all, but I made friends with two sexy over-50s named Doris and Ivy, who bought me a bottle of local champagne, &c. Didn't feel too bad on the coach coming home, but after having had a pernod in the bar followed by a black coffee, I was quite ready for anything. Getting up to our room I happened to bump into the lads from next door, and they gave me a large glass of Tequilla. That finished me off, good and proper. After yelling abuse at a crowd of Germans I went on to vomit over the balcony and then fell through the french windows onto the floor. Insensible just isn't the word for it.

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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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Sunday August 10, 1975

11th after Trinity. A lovely day, but not as warm as we imagined it would be. Laze around all day in and around the swimming pool, and spend just a bit of time on the beach.

The Caracola Club once again in the evening where British women seem to cry out for good British men. The German population seems to have arrived in Majorca like a plague of locusts, and a nice Yorkshire accent warms the hearts of millions of our fellow country women.

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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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Friday August 8, 1975

Last day at work for over two weeks, and I can't say I'm sorry to get away. Home at 6 o'clock in pouring rain. Thunder and lightning. The lamp in Lynn's bedroom exploded (in the storm) and quite unpeturbed she went on drying her hair with the hairdryer plugged into the same socket!

We were chasing round the house stuffing things in suitcases - Uncle Jack, Auntie Mabel, Marlene, Frank & the children arrived after tea.

At 9 o'clock we'd finished everything and John went off to the Hare with Maria to say a final goodbye. I went down with Lynn and Dave for a quick pint but didn't enjoy it one bit. It's a nerve wrecking experience going off to the other side of the world with only a younger brother and an absent minded bank clerk (no insult intended, Chris).

Mum and Dad take us to the Wellington Street bus station at 10.30 and we bid our fond farewells. Leave Leeds a few minutes after 11 and I'm awake all night until we get into Victoria coach station at 5am. John slept, as he usually does, like a three month old baby. Lucky lad.

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Thursday August 7, 1975

John and I go to Morrison's in order to get a few vital provisions for the holiday. Spend a couple of quid on tooth paste and such like, and then go down to the Fox for a quick one. See Peter N, who is having his usual Thursday lads night out without Sue. Leaving the Fox the car runs out of petrol, and we ring for Dave B to come down in order to re-fuel. We walk up to the Hare and have a few drinks before coming home at 10. Give Mum a box of chocolates and see a few TV programmes.

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