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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Saturday July 16, 1977

Joy and Jacqui along with a little girl called Anne come round to the Pacific at 2.30 dressed in plastic bin liners with safety pins. Amazing! I stood dumbfounded in the crowded hotel foyer.

with Joy (left) and Jacqui.

I grabbed a supply of plonk from my room and escorted the three 'punk rockers' onto the spell-bound beach. Noel was off-hand with Joy. Jacqui remarked how quiet I am in hours of lightness. I explained that I am nocturnal. Swigged warm wine. Fell asleep, &c.

Saw a gang of real punk rockers at the Playboy tonight. What a revolting sight they were. Ghastly.








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Friday July 15, 1977

Hot day doing little other than muck about in the sun. Tonight Noel and I met Jacqui and Joy again and became quite pissed.

Martyn's note.

Arriving back at the Pacific (Hotel) I found  the note (left) glued to the door of my room with 'Mum' rollette deodorant.

One night is quite acceptable but two is pushing it a bit far, don't you think? I took a flying kick at the door and then found refuge in Noel's bedroom.
















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Thursday July 14, 1977

Rick's boat trip. A great piss up. I misplaced my El Capone T-shirt and the sunglasses I acquired here last year.

In the Pavement Bar tonight Noel and I met a couple of girls, Jacqueline Sate, of 102 Grosvenor Road, Muswell Hill, London N10, and a marvellous little mover who strongly resembles Sandie Shaw, called Joy.

Es Paradis, San Antonio, Ibiza.

The four of us went to Es Paradis and Playboy One. Much alcohol. Great dancing done. At Es Paradis I met a German in the toilet who took me for a Spanish flamenco dancer. I made a quick escape when he fell down over a sink pulling it from the wall. In the bar I said I was Felipe de Borbon, heir to the Spanish throne. It didn't get any of us a free drink. Hysteria was had by all.

Martyn asked me to sleep in Noel's room because he wants to entertain a blond girl from Stevenage for the night. I readily agreed. He's only young once.

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Wednesday July 13, 1977

Boat trip: Martyn, Mig, Chris, Dave, Peter and John.

Went on a foul boat-trip which cost 5,700,000 pesetas. My camera broke and I transferred my film into Glenn's appliance. Can't win 'em all, eh?

Tuesday July 12, 1977

Glen: picked on.

Bank Holiday in Ireland. Much the same as last night. On the beach all day and in a bar all night. Prince Charles is a complete idiot. Not the real Prince Charles of course - I'm referring to John Grady, Esq.

Glenn is very quiet, but Peter and Martyn do tend to pick on him. Cruel they are. Glen doesn't seem to want to 'fight' back.











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Monday July 11, 1977

On the town in Ibiza with Noel Pilling (left) and John Grady (centre)

Go all over the bars in San Antonio and end up with John (Prince Charles) at Nito's with two German ladies, Brunhilda and 'Sicklinda' - God knows how you go about spelling that (Sieglinde?). We walked them to a grotty hotel and sat outside drinking some cheap brandy and Coca Cola - more brandy than coke. I accidentally dropped a lit cig down my shoe and burned my foot. Agony is hardly the word for it.






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