My friend Sue and I have entered our third day of our holiday. I think it’s safe to say that Day One was an unmitigated disaster.
We had rented a studio to stay in at mates rates. We pulled up at a, frankly horrible, apartment block and I saw Sue’s heart sink through the floor. We searched for 302 and found it behind a door which we had both thought was a cupboard. Apartment verdict: depressing as hell. Balcony overlooking wasteland, next to no furniture, beds pull down from the wall American sitcom stylee…
And it was the beds where it went drastically wrong. Sue pulled one down to check it out and the smell of piss filled the room. We turned the mattress over: disturbed piss smell filling the entire apartment and uber enormous urine stain. QUELLE HORREUR!
We retired to the balcony to look miserable, stress our brains out and work out how we could avoid returning home on the next flight.
I was in possession of a 0% interest credit card and steely determination and non-compromising rage. “This is disgraceful and unacceptable!” said I.
I texted my mother.
Mother: turn the mattress over and put a towel on it.
FatFran: yeah, we tried that a little bit. It hums hard.
Sue’s dad rang Sue: “The owner’s elderly mother was sraying last week with a broken foot.” The culprit had been found.
We ventured out and stumbled upon the first hotel, I handed over my credit card and we were out of there for one night. Up we went to our home-for-one-night-only. LUSHNESS. A whole apartment with totally comfy beds, a sitting room, humongous balcony and gorgeous swimming pool. Sue looked like she could weep. See?
BUZZ went my phone. Text from mother. “Stepfather would like to give you £ towards your holiday, please feel free to use it for accommodation (yep, I’m a very lucky spoiled girl – uber mega youngest child syndrome. God I adore my stepfather.)
And so we have stayed on in amazepartment. Relaxation has set in and Sad Sue has become Slightly Mortified At Having To Accept Funding From FatFran’s Folks But Happy Sue. See again?
I’m loving it.
That said, we’re stating in somewhere akin to Magaluf. It’s pretty horrible. Dinner options are Burger King, KFC, Pizza Hut and a variety if other hellish joints. But last night we ventured to the Old Town which is gorgeous. We had an amazing dinner of fresh fish, beautifully grilled, crisp Mallorcan wine and came home happy and content.
And one of the best bits? There are lots of people here with bodies as ropey as mine! I don’t have to feel bad about myself! My arms are exposed for the first time in years. HUZZAH! They are much browner than me though. BOO.
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