A number of people have asked me where my Puerto Banus blog is and I have to say that whilst it was a great holiday the weather was awful for Spain( but here it is anyways.) So our usual routine was disrupted. The first day on the beach was so windy the gingerbird refused to undress and although I did I was battered by sand as the wind whipped it up and threw it at me.
In the end we retreated to the shops and the credit cards took a right royal bashing. The shops in Banus are fabulous so much choice. So the beach became a no go area for most of our five day trip. Happily the night -life was unaffected.
As usual we started our evening at Sinatra’s..it was a Thursday and really busy. The walk from the apartment was not too bad about 8 minutes but involved a steep incline (well decline on the way out) It was just too damn steep to manage in the heels so we hobbled down it barefoot. 
It was no surprise to find the same two barman serving drinks with their usual flair the place was heaving. Ordering our Gins and Vodkas we blended in with the crowd slurping on the straws and wincing as the super strength drinks whooshed into our bodies.
We were lucky enough to find a seat for a while and rested out already tired feet chatting casually to people around us. Two girls from Scotland that happened to come and sit next to us were good company and the friendship struck we all decided to move on to the next bar (The Newscafe) Dancing wildly and still drinking madly, the whole night went by in a flash. We got solicited into a club on the way back by a couple of extremely gorgeous promoters and eventually found ourselves staggering up the hill around 6a.m.
The next day the weather was even worse so we decided to stay put reading watching TV and doing girly stuff. At around 11 pm we headed out again shoes off and down the hill. We arranged to meet our new found friends Jacky and Elaine. Elaine sported a massive head of naturally curly hair and was renamed our ‘Curly Friend’. Another night of drinking dancing snogging and bad behaviour followed.
The next day was quite sunny so we went on to the roof terrace and soaked up some rays. Because the wind was so strong we didn’t realise how hot it was and I got sunburnt. My chest look hot enough to fry eggs on great!! A perfect match for the dress I was to wear later. Repeating the patterns of the two previous nights we got on it!!!. Getting in at around 6 am again we fell deeply asleep. We were due to meet our friends Trudy and Dave for lunch the next day. They were holidaying in the mountain region. and would drive up to meet us. We fell out of bed at around 1p.m feeling like soggy lettuce. A hangover was an understatement and with the prospect of a boozy lunch coming up we steeled ourselves for the inevitable. Feeling like my head was actually going to explode and my stomach contents were about to erupt like Mount Vesuvius I donned by bikini and jumped straight into the very cold pool outside. Gasping for breath I swam up and down until I felt human again.
We took a slow walk down to Sinatra’s arriving late and there they were beers in hand. The thought of a drink bought my nausea rushing back but not wanting to be unsociable I ordered a San Miguel.
Sipping it slowly I began to feel better. With the beach still far to windy to relax on we retreated to a lovely beachside restaurant for the paella and some red wine. It was delicious. Trudy and I got drunk the wine catching up with the rest of alcohol in my system. After a languid and lazy afternoon giggling and talking bollocks, we headed back for a nap before our final night out.
We met our Scottish friends in Sinatra’s and sitting on the sofas we spent a couple of hours people watching. There was a group of extremely noisy and wild women on a hen. Singing and dancing they put on quite a show. Suddenly the very small area was filled to the brim with broad shoulders, six packs and massive pecs. A group of Rugby players fell into the bar taking up any space that was left with their muscles. I have always found rugby players rather an odd bunch. They have this camaraderie thing going on that’s rather like a secret club. This bunch was to prove no exception. They were friendly and overly affectionate but all rather likeable and some were very good-looking. We fell into easy conversation and another two girls sitting adjacent to us also had the benefit of their attentions.
They were on a stag weekend and the groom gave us the benefit of his overdeveloped thighs and taut buttocks encased in bright pink speedos. I was in deep conversation with the pretty one when an older woman from the Hen group came over and standing in front of us she glared at me and wagging her finger at him she remonstrated with him loudly. He quite arrogantly dismissed her rantings intrigued I asked him what the problem was.
They had met the group earlier and she had asked him how old he thought she was.(Eeek..a question you should never ask as an older woman unless you can take the answer) This guy was never going to spare a woman’s feelings charming as he was , he was arrogant and good-looking with an amazing body and ,wouldn’t feel the need to be polite. He answered honestly but as he explained on the conservative side and said about 53. She was mortified and said he was a Rude Bastard!! Im 48!!. She was attractive and slim but I would have said despite some lip-filler (Amen to that)she was at least 53. His honesty had upset her and here she was haranguing him again making it worse.
I felt quite sorry for her. I more than most understand the sensitivity surrounding getting older. Doesn’t matter how you manage it, it remains a painful reality especially if your single again. It’s a question I rarely ask and if someone asks me I usually smile and sidestep. I also do everything I can to keep the wrinkles at bay so I had some sympathy for the woman. It amused me later that evening to see her yet again giving him a hard time.
Sinatra’s was due to close and the Rugby boys asked us all to come with them to a club where they had a table reserved. By us they meant Kate and I our two Scottish friends and the two other girls that were on the sofas with us. I have to say that one of those two girls was getting on my nerves a bit. She seemed highly strung and having knocked a glass flying smashing the glass everywhere she made no attempt to clear it up so i did it worried that someone would cut their feet. Watching me as I picked up the glass she began to thank me over and over. I decided she was quite neurotic.
On to the club and we were joined by more members of the stag party. Vodka was ordered dancing was done and we had a great time. The pretty one had vanished I am guessing he was on promise elsewhere and I was left being hit on by a cousin of the groom who was 18!!!. He was very sweet and got me drinks and hung on my every word. At one point I went outside for a smoke and sitting with the rest of the group I sat next to a guy that was introduced to me as the brother of the bride. We were chatting about life in general when Miss neurotic game rushing out. Talking very fast and not making much sense she threw me a filthy looked and said something about me being a Cougar. Ah so someone had been talking. I got the feeling that she didn’t like it too much..Shame!!.
Getting bored I went back in to dance. The 18 years old resumed his attentions but I had already pointed out to him that he would be out of luck. 18 was just too young even for me. Eventually we all headed back to the Rugby Players apartment.
Their building was right on the seafront with an enormous panoramic window and balcony overlooking the beach. The large glass table in the lounge was covered with wine bottles and glasses. Miss Neurotic was twittering on and it was at this point I noticed she was all over the brother of the bride. So that would explain why she was hostile earlier. She wanted him and she thought I was stealing her thunder..Wrong! not the least bit interested.
The pretty one appeared from his bedroom swaggering around in his underpants I’m guessing having been busy elsewhere and I sat with my young friend on the sofa. He was still trying hard asking “so you a me is this happening or not ?” Laughing I said ” no huni it’s not”.
Miss Neurotic continued to whisper to anyone who would listen that I was a Cougar and pointing at me and the 18 year old. She was really beginning to get on my nerves. She was also still drinking..greedy cow! My young companion suddenly whispered in my ear..”whatever you do don’t drink anything that’s on the table” I looked at him and then looked over at the table..wine bottles and glasses half filled with what looked like white wine. I looked back at him and he smiled.
Miss Neurotic seemed to be draped all over her target but still managed another barbed comment at me. Seeing red I went to get up off the sofa only to be restrained by my friend. Pulling me back down he said quietly “she’s not worth it stay here” Throwing a comment over my shoulder something like ‘I can assure you that this young man is perfectly safe with me’ I allowed myself to be restrained. He looked at me and said “yeh shame that”.
Twittering on Miss Neurotic impulsively grabbed a wine glass off the table swallowing gratuitously..at last she was quiet as realisation dawned!!. All the rugby boys roared with laughter..she had just drunk some ones urine..!!! She was traumatized.
The boy and I giggled heads together..couldn’t have happened to a nicer person. As I said Rugy players can do strange things I have heard the stories. Must be all that testosterone.
With the boys due at the airport at 10 am Kate and Jacky and I left the apartment about 8.30 am and after taking in the morning view we headed off in search of Curly friend who we had lost earlier. We found her at a bus stop and exchanging stories and singing ‘ show me the way to go home’ at the top of our voices we headed for a Macdonald’s breakfast. Never has food tasted so good.
