A Snippet of Life

  So I have tried something different in this post and I came up with the idea when struggling to focus on some Uni work and listening to loud music – a true procrastination invention. I often dance, I love to dance and especially when I have had some form of alcoholic beverage in my system but also when completely sober. I mean who doesn't have a little jig whilst getting ready in the morning?! Or any time of day really, whilst hoovering, washing up... in fact there is never a time when it is not acceptable. So the following piece has been inspired by me blasting Mark Morrison 'Return Of The Mack' into my eardrums and simply just writing. While writing I am imaging me dancing both drunk and sober, how it looks in my eyes and how it most probably looks to everybody else. I have morphed these thoughts into a drunken scenario in a club, just so that it had some kind of structure.   Hips flowing I strut into the club, body roll to the bar and shimmy in to get served firs...

  Having absolutely nailed the three hour journey up the A1 towards THE NORTH, myself and my amazing driver and lovely friend, Kerrie, arrived in York. Obviously, it being a Saturday night, we got glammed up and straight to the bottle. Being (semi) responsible, we ensured that our stomachs were sufficiently lined and headed to Pizza Express. The meal I chose was (from memory) my usual, remembering that it contained a bit of spice, but nowhere near to the extent that I experienced on this occasion. After about ten minutes of trying, the waitress noticed my streaming eyes and the fact that I really couldn't handle the heat (!) so she came back laughing and armed with a large glass of milk. As the evening proceeded and the wine consumption increased, my singing got louder and I found myself, my friend and after a little while the whole restaurant practically, singing Beach Boys 'Good Vibrations'! We then went on to a cocktail bar whereby you are given a book to choose from, so...

   After a long, beautiful yet mountainous and scary journey from one end of the island to the other, passing many a goat and crazy local driver along the way, we arrived in our perfect villa and dived straight into the infinity pool. Not a man-made thing in sight and the nearest big town was a twenty minute drive and even that was more the size of a village in England. It was called Fiscardo, to which I mistook when retelling Mum about the annoyance of my sister's lavender obsession, whereby she covered the pillow with the stuff, a right Fiscardo (of course I meant Fiasco).    As the week proceeded, we intended on doing something each day which included swimming in the see-through ocean and laughing at my sister's fear of seaweed; driving over (and I really do mean OVER) a mountain in order to get to some beautiful caves and stunning Myrtos Bay- taking each hairpin bend with great care and total terror, a sheer drop either side; attempting a BBQ, failing and then ...