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  • Andy ZWSan Sebastian

    G's Day of Birth

    June 17, 2018 in Spain ⋅ ⛅ 15 °C

    The main reason GC and I had ventured to San Sebastian was the firmly established tradition of GC refusing to spend a single one of her birthday’s in the UK. I can’t say I find the idea a bad one (although that endorsement means very little coming from me since I’ll use the anniversary of eating a dorito chip as a reason to travel). Anyway, today was that day, and GC had decided to, without any form of wandering, turn off all forms of alarms. We ended up sleeping in far far longer than I would have liked to: I’m a “have-to-do-everything-see-everything-eat-everything” kind of travelling companion, and although I do try and dilute this a little when travelling with calmer friends, it still niggles me to waste the day away. However, it was GC’s birthday, and so today was about making sure she was happy. First on the list? I had looked up a brunch place called Cafe Alabama. Bowls of coconut yoghurt topped with fruit and sprinkled with chia seeds and all other sorts of things I vaguely know exist but never really eat. Guys, it sounds so pretentious, but it is definitely not. It’s two absolutely down-to-earth guys running the place, and the cafe itself is unassuming, very quaint, and pleasant to sit at. They had an absolutely incredible breakfast deal which, once again, made me question the business plans of the food industry in the area, and it was quality that far, far, exceeded what we paid. I had four or five other breakfast spots listed on my phone for the rest of our stay. We did not go to a single other breakfast place, and I do not hesitate to knight Cafe Alabama my one-and-only breakfast spot for whenever I might be back in San Sebastian.

    We then followed onto one of the recommendations we’d got from our friendly local guides: Pasaia. A little town which was very local, quieter and less touristy - and only took a half hour walk to get to. I have to say… We were underwhelmed. The town was very, very quiet. The streets were empty, shops and restaurants shut, and, to be perfectly honest, I did not feel we were welcome at all. We picked up our pace a little, and got to a little dock-area, with beautiful views across the sea and a breeze to go with them. Here is where it got good: I saw what looked like a little coastal path, and (immediately) decided it had to be done. A group of tourists who were walking down it told us cheerfully that it was an easy hour or so walk which took you along the coastal cliffs all the way back to San Sebastian - it could not have been more perfect. A look in my eyes which I assume GC found impossible to say no to had us making our way up the mountain stone-steps and onto an absolute stunner of a walk. I would do this walk over and over again if the weather was right, and with the sun blazing and blue-steeped skies above us it was an absolute dream.

    Taking endless photographs along the way as GC powered on ahead (on what mission, I do not know) I was surprised when she suddenly jerked to a stop. She turned to me, panic all over her face, and gestured at me to run.

    “Why?”
    “Just do it!!”

    Being well versed in all horror, thriller and action-tropes, I was not about to get into a debate about whether or not I should run only to be interrupted mid-sassy-sentence by a rabid werewolf/crazy axe-person/murderous spirit. So, as GC sprinted off ahead, I tucked my camera under my arm and sprinted on behind her.

    Once a safe distance from the threat, GC stopped, gasping for breath because she is horribly unfit, and me, also gasping for breath because I absolutely hate running of any kind.

    “What was that?!”
    GC looked at me, serious.

    “There were two naked men. I have no idea what they were doing, but it looked super dodgy.”

    I looked at her quizzically, because two men banging is by no means something to be afraid of. If they were taken up with overwhelming passion after the beautiful coastal walk, heck, go for it, have a fab time. GC, however, shook her head, and implied there was a ritualistic murder occurring, with bodies that she hadn’t seen but knew were there, and that we could have been the next victims. I shrugged. Maybe. I was still very much of the belief that those two men were very much just enjoying each other, and when nothing appeared in the papers (or should I say my google searches) for the rest of the week I made sure GC knew she was absolutely mental.

    We were having dinner in the eastern part of Don Ostia, and a little pre-dinner explore revealed a quieter part of town. Our chosen restaurant that night, Tedone, was another win. A sustainable, eco-orientated, vegan-friendly restaurant: small, cosy, with a modest seasonal menu to match its sustainability ethics. It felt very pleasant to be sat comfortably on an outside table without feeling like we were swimming in and out of a thousand and one conversations, so if you want a bit of peace and quiet away from the hustle and bustle, come here. And if not, come here anyway, because it’s amazing. I had a fish that was absolutely out of this world (I don’t know if I’ve been starved of fresh sea-food so I’m just revelling in it all, but boy oh boy). It flaked like butter, was coated in the freshest olive-oil I have had in a while, and I would have had it twice over had I not known it would make me sick. Still, I considered it. For desert we had a date elsewhere: La Viña, which boasted the best cheesecake in all of San Sebastian. Content and with full bellies we shuffled off to try it out.

    If Tedone was a peaceful water-lily pond, La Viña was a NYC stock-market floor. It was rammed, so it you want to visit, be prepared. Bar-service was speedy and friendly though, so GC and I soon had cheesecake in hand. It was good, but it felt more like a cheesecake-flan fusion rather than the NY-cheesecake that’s so popular in London. Still worth a try though, and despite it being so busy, the atmosphere, as ever in Sab Seb, was happy, friendly and absolutely comfortable to be amongst.    Read more

  • Andy ZWSan Sebastian

    The Goopy Ice-Scream

    June 16, 2018 in Spain ⋅ ☁️ 17 °C

    Another Monday, another plane to catch. GC and I compromised about the time we wanted to get into the airport, since, as usual, I am the only mad-person amongst my friends who enjoys the thrill of pulling up to my gate half-hour before departure. I wouldn’t recommend it to anyone, and it has caused me stress, tears, many sprints across the airport, and one missed flight. Yet somehow, I can’t help myself if I’m travelling alone. So under the watchful eye of my travel companion we arrived with the recommended two hours to spare, and got on the flight stress-free.

    Now, from London there are no direct flights to San Sebastian, so we had decided to catch a flight to Bilbao, and take a leisurely hour-and-a-bit-ish coach into San Sebastian (€17 for a one-way ticket). The coach-journey was a beaut, but busy. If you’re a bit of a nervous traveller, or just have a bit of an aversion to strangers like I do, it’s worth getting onto the coach earlier rather than later. They sit in the station for a while, so it’s just a matter of hopping on and grabbing seats with your travelling partners. If it’s busy you can always wait for the next one; a half hour isn’t much if you’d be more comfortable next to someone you know, and it is a lengthy ride so definitely something to consider. So I stared out the window at views which made me want to visit every inch of the north of Spain and hike my way around each mountain-top. Filled with lush green expanses, it had the aura of a tropical rainforest: it wasn’t the Spain I’m used to, and I absolutely loved it.

    We pulled in at San Seb bus station, and trundled on over to our hostel. I was nervous. I was very nervous. I am very much a person who likes cleanliness and privacy, and ‘hostel’ is not a word that brings those to mind. GC assured me that she’d done her research, we had a private room, and the reviews were all great. Nevertheless the word had baited my anxiety, and I could feel it shifting about, ready to pounce. Turns out, I had zero reason to worry.

    Pension Ibai is a place I would definitely recommend. Slap-bang in the middle of town, its location could literally not be more central. The only downside to this is potentially the noise, but it’s towards the edge of the tiny San Sebastian heart, so although it’s not going to be chirping grasshoppers and the soft sea-breeze, it’s not a deal-breaker - and take this from someone who is a very light, very anxious sleeper. In terms of cleanliness? Absolutely spotless. I have literally showered in friends’ places which have caused me much more ew-factor. It essentially felt much more like a bed & breakfast (minus the breakfast) and we were both very happy with choices made.

    Next on our list was food: we were absolutely starving. A little wander seemed to suggest that most pintos bars in the area seemed to have a basic-fee of €2.50 per pinxo. Ideal. The wander also revealed that it was foodie-madness all day every day over here, and so it was rammed wherever we went. I have to say though, although I did get a little worked up, it wasn’t a horribly unpleasant kinda busy, like when you are pressed against you third sweaty armpit on the Victoria line at 7:30am. Everyone was chipper, chatting, enjoying food and wine, and I cannot emphasise enough how much this atmosphere permeates the entire the area. Even the youths (I seem to have become a judgemental 50 year-old real quick) were polite, seemed happy and content, and were never, not once, intimidating. As a woman, let me tell you that this is unusual - particularly at night - so this was a massive plus on the San Sebastian excellence list.
    We settled on a place called Atari, and as we waited for a table to free up a group of locals anointed themselves our tour-guides and began a friendly yet heated discussion amongst themselves about what the best order to do things would be for us. They were kind, and funny, but GC and I were both fading fast due to hunger and were glad when a waitress gestured us over to our table. GC and I exchanged a relieved glance, fully recognising the anti-social tendencies in each other which, coupled with a growing hunger, made us two potential psychopaths in a very crowded place.

    Fed, watered, and posing less of a risk to the locals around us, GC and I did a little exploring. We headed to a promising ice-cream stall with popsicles which looked fresh, fruity and delicious. The disappointment was real. Whether it was the heat (it wasn’t) or the wind (I genuinely almost flew away) the ice-lollies started to melt into a goop-slobber-like substance that was absolutely out of control what with the hurricane around us. As it splattered onto out faces, our hair, and GC’s very white knitted jumper, we binned them just half-way through and and discussed in lengthy fascination what the contents of the ice-cream goop might have been.

    Dinner. Dinner guys. I could go on, and on, and on about dinner, and I will name the restaurant, albeit reluctantly, because I just don’t want it to get any busier. Gandarias. We had booked a table that morning, and it wasn’t until the end of the holiday that we realised how lucky we’d been to get a spot on such short-notice. Gandarias is popular. And for an absolutely good reason. The food, and I do not say this lightly, was spectacular. I have had a lot of food, in a lot of places. I’m not a picky eater, but I am jealous with my praise: Gandarias gets it all. It is not flashy and the wait staff is genuinely friendly. When I was torn about what wine to get, they suggested I get a bottle since it was much more cost-effective. When I said I wouldn’t be able to finish it (GC is not a wine drinker) he looked at me, with friendly surprise at how easy to solve my problem was, and said: “pues te la llevas a casa!” (“Just take it home!”). How absolutely chill is that? How completely and utterly unpretentious. I loved it.

    In terms of food GC and I shared one of the best salads I have ever had, and I tend to find salads boring, over-dressed and generally a chore to eat. This one had warm seafood scattered over it, this beautiful balsamic glaze in perfect proportion to the food, not too many leaves and oh the most delicious tomatoes ever. We devoured it in minutes, and as we were mulling over whether to straight-up order another, the clams arrived. Another mouth-watering dish, although very rich. We greedily soaked up the leftover sauce with bread - not something I usually feel like doing, but boy-oh-boy was it delicious. For the pièce de resistance GC and I had both got this monster-steak with the best fries I have ever had (and I don’t usually like fries either) and it was perfectly under-cooked, perfectly juicy, and everything I could ever hope for in a steak. I can’t remember the desert, to be honest, I’m not even sure we had any (although that seems highly unlikely). To top it all, the price-tag? Wildly reasonable, to the point I don’t understand how they make a profit. It was so affordable that GC and I went to bed absolutely ecstatic knowing we could have meals of that caliber every night, and not have our accounts dip dangerously into the dreaded red numbers.    Read more

  • Andy ZWVive la France
    Day 5

    Homeward Bound

    May 23, 2018 in France ⋅ ⛅ 14 °C

    As is my usual MO, I am not one to say much about departures. My heart always breaks a little bit every time I have to leave a newly discovered land, and so I try to keep the closing posts short and sweet.

    We wandered over to Beaune (the only mature way to pronounce that is “Bone”) and wandered around the sweet little town. There was a market, and museum of local art & furnishings all the way back from the Middle Ages, all housed in a “flamboyant medieval hospital” (Google’s words, not mine). It looked like a genuinely gorgeous building, but sadly we had little time for more than a pleasant stroll around town and lunch. In my solo exploration I came across an absolutely delightful old gentleman, who was playing the Spanish guitar with beautiful dexterity. I settled on a bench nearby, and gazed absent-mindedly into space as I spent the last few precious minutes I had before lunch letting the music waft around me.

    We had an excellent lunch, and I wrangled a taster-morsel out of Josh’s every course - I had a valid reason. He had ordered the exact dishes I would have, had I had time for a three course meal. Sadly, we had to rush away before the crème brûlée got to the table (devastating).

    Then it was airport, muggy rain, train, home. I had missed our cosy flat, I won’t lie, but looking out the window and being faced with, well, other people’s windows, didn’t quite have the same magic as looking over rolling hills covered in lush vineyards and a gorgeous sun glinting off the vibrant green leaves.

    Repeat visit? I certainly think so.    Read more

  • Andy ZWVive la France
    Day 4

    Wine Tasting Galore

    May 22, 2018 in France ⋅ ⛅ 20 °C

    After days of having been promised rain, it finally happened. Rain. Buckets of it. Luckily, as is often the way in Europe, it lasted about an hour before the clouds parted and a sheepish sun and hugged us all in its gentle rays.

    The hour of downpour we spent well - at a small wine-tour followed by an immensely interesting and delicious wine-tasting. It was a Château about half hour drive from Vergecosse, and it was small enough to feel like a Château that had been lived and worked at. A friendly tour showed our small group the ins and outs of wine-making, and although I was amply distracted by the many potential photographs (which will no doubt be utterly under-exposed) I still felt like I left those icy cellars with a little more of an understanding of why I liked the wine that I did.

    The wine-tasting was similarly enjoyable, and although I was alone in picking my favourite bottle, I was happy to listen to everyone’s incorrect opinion of the better wine (furthermore I am always happier with my preferred wine bottle being less popular, as it means there’s more for me) (in all seriousness though, it is important respect other people’s opinions, always).

    We all headed back home, and Samuel and I rolled our sleeves up, since it was our turn to prepare this evening’s feast.

    And boy oh boy, a feast was had.    Read more

  • Andy ZWVive la France
    Day 3

    Oversleeping & Underachieving

    May 21, 2018 in France ⋅ ☀️ 17 °C

    There is genuinely very little of interest for the third person reader to be said of this day. After a cocky alarm set for 9am alongside the phrase “I’ll probably get earlier than that anyway" Sam and I found ourselves dozing right up until the ripe old time of 13:00. It all worked out for us though, because due to Alison’s (new party member) plane being delayed by about three hours, we had missed nothing at all.

    We sauntered to the pool-yard, unaware as of yet that we had lapsed into the good ol’ jet-lag, and were very much on Florida time. We swam, for a very honourable amount of time, considering the glacial temperature of the beautiful glistening water.

    When Josh, Alison & Chrissy arrived at about 15:00 (it was supposed to be a 10:05 landing time) we had a late lunch, and we all enjoyed a beautiful selection of European-affordable cheeses, with amazing saussisson to go with it. It was gorgeous. And then there was more swimming pool time, some competitive ping-pong (I lost, Sam beat Josh, Julian was the overruling champion) Sam & I went for a little wander. We played pass-the-Dougal with Josh for about five minutes, and then had a little explore within the labyrinthian paths of the vineyards. Have I mentioned how absolutely gorgeous everything is here? The light was spectacular, the blue skies restored my soul, and the sun just recharged batteries I’d forgotten I had.

    The evening was perfectly rounded by an evening out at the local restaurant. An exhausted couple who had been working back-to-back on a bank holiday weekend greeted us, still smiley, and Josh broke through the wife’s tiredness as she took our order, and she flashed us a few humorous, but completely understandably exhausted, smiles.

    We ate frog-legs, we drank wine, and everybody labelled me a God and worshipped me via food-offerings, so all was right with the world (long story, but essentially Josh encourage everyone to offer their food to me in a god-like fashion, and so history was made).

    Sam and I blessed the walk back the the Villa, since it was a pleasantly cool night and the walk worked miracles in helping our filled-up little stomachs process. We got home, and most everyone went to a happy bed after a lovely night cap.

    Sam and I went to bed. We watched an episode of Castle. We watched two. We tried to sleep. Couldn’t. It was 2am… Could we watch another…?

    Let it be said we struggled to fall asleep before the 5am ballpark figure, and that when the alarm went off at the very reasonable time of 9am, a little WW3 erupted in the bedroom as two very non-morning people silently hated each other across the bedroom, knowing, full well, the unresonableness of the situation, but hating nevertheless.

    Goddamnit Floria.    Read more

  • Andy ZWVive la France
    Day 2

    Chillside

    May 20, 2018 in France ⋅ ☁️ 17 °C

    There is little for me to say on this day, other than the absolute chill-time that was had. After the full-on (wonderfully so) trip that was the great FL, this day was ability bliss. We had no plans, we all only spoke to each other in brief intervals of congenial conversation, and minded our own business. And, of course, Dougal was trotting about which made me just the happiest person ever.

    So I sat pool-side, and read, and read, and read. I did swim, once. It was very, very cold. The water glistened, invitingly, a beautiful blue which reflected the glistening sun above us. And once I was swimming, it was refreshing, a nice cooling sensation in a sea of diamond lights. But soon the pre-hypothermia kicked in, and I shivered myself out of the pool and into a towel. Then I napped. It was wonderful.

    The evening was only improved upon, as Josh had made an amazing lamb roast, slow-cooked on the BBQ no less, and there were delicious potatoes perfectly crisp on the outside and fluffy on the inside, there were green beans covered in garlic, an amazingly fresh salad, and the best wine, naturellement. We then walked off a very satisfying meal with a small stroll around the town, and oh lord is it beautiful. A sea of vineyards surrounded us, and as the sun set slowly the sky was a beautifully peaceful pastel pink.

    The peace was not to last, however. War was declared on the return to the house. Names in a Hat was the order of the day, and after a snail-like pace to get the game started we had a sassy but appropriately friendly round. Who won is unimportant. Definitely, and absolutely, redundant.    Read more

  • Andy ZWVive la France
    Day 1

    Exhaustion & Wine

    May 19, 2018 in France ⋅ ⛅ 17 °C

    To be perfectly honest, the preface to this entire section of text should be the name of the absolute angel whom I was looking forward to seeing most on this trip. But you don’t serve dessert before the main course (I sometimes do though, because ‘m an adult, and I can) so I decided to save the best till later.

    So the French holiday began in a Yotelair pod, I suppose, which was a blessing. A small room with a shower and a bed was an absolute palace after the nightmare of an 8-hour flight surrounded by screaming children, and the warm water washing away the exhaustion, coupled with about four hours of good, horizontal, sleep, were the magical treat that allowed us to get onto the next part of the journey. Allons-y!

    Although getting back up at 13:00 to catch our flight felt rough, I know Sam and I both felt better for it. And genuinely speaking, at £60 it was more than I have got in London hotel rooms that cost closer to the £100. We got unlimited complimentary hot drinks. We were a five minute walk from our terminal. If that. Need I say more?

    After getting some healthy food and healthy juice to a) quell the incoming hanger and b) start fixing the absolute snowball effect that was health in Florida, we got on the plane. It was an uneventful flight. My sense of dread at landing back in London was quickly overtaken by my happiness at taking-off for another part of Europe.

    In Lyon, in our little Toyota Aygo, we happily drove through beautiful rolling countryside, and quaint little towns. The lights was gorgeous, the temperature was perfectly warm and had that Mediterranean dryness to it, and I was home (even though, after checking, we were still a 5-hour drive from the actual Med).

    We got to Casa Josh without a hiccup, to be greeted by DOUGAL!!! This was no surprise. I had been informed of the presence of my four-legged canine friend well in advance, Josh knowing full well that his presence would be a major factor in my attendance to his family’s beautiful place. His oversized paws clicking on the wooden floors as he scrambled around, his lovely almost-too-long legs flapping around in excitement. It was great to see him. Josh too, of course.

    We had a wonderfully Mediterranean dinner (other than the microwaved whole chicken that was, to the end, slightly pink) courtesy of the other guests of the vineyard home who we were to be spending the next three lovely days. Cheese, fuet, salad and wine. What else could one ask for?

    The sweet respite of sleep. Goodnight, sweet prince (morbid, I know).    Read more

  • Andy ZWFlorida Bishes.
    Day 8

    Universal Studios & Chubby Rain

    May 16, 2018 in the United States ⋅ ⛅ 27 °C

    Thursday, roller coaster day. We had promises of rain all day, so Chloe and I sat in the car, sending out optimistic vibes as we went on the way to one of the most extortionately expensive theme parks I have ever been to.

    The day started well, although the queues to get searched shaped like a human funnel, hundreds of tiny monsters (children) clamouring to get in. Seriously. They were all around. Each group in a different neon-coloured t-shirt uniform, blinding me, everywhere I looked. It was overwhelming.

    Once we got into the park, things weren’t so bad. The tiny humans spread out, the sun was out, and we ambled in the direction of the action-plan Adam and I (not gonna lie, mainly Adam) had mapped out the night before. It was all going swimmingly, up until, twenty minutes onto our first ride they announced that the ride was, in fact, out of service. We trudged out of the queue, were gifted with a fast pass as compensation, and questioned our next move.

    “The Popeye rapids!”
    “Great idea!”
    “Ah, shit, there’s a 45 minute wait. It must be everyone from the Ripsaw Falls ride. Should we try something else?”
    “Guys, I just want to get on a ride. I JUST WANT TO GET ON A RIDE!”

    I might not have yelled that last part, or even said it out loud, but man, was I itching to get on something, anything, before we hit the two-hour mark since walking into the park.

    Things took a turn for the better though. With Adam’s guidance, as well as Sam’s app with all the ride times, we decided to rush over to Jurassic Park. I was very excited about this one, because dinosaur are mint (let’s get this ball rolling, Chloe) and T-Rex’s are so absolutely sweet, and Jurassic Park is honestly one of the best movies of all time. We then ran back to Ripsaw Falls, and then off to Popeye, all-in-all with a total waiting time of no more than 45 minutes collectively. It was an excellent job. And we ended up absolutely, completely and undoubtedly drenched through, all the way to our lingerie.

    Chloe’s outfit, albeit beautiful, turned out a little see-through when wet. So as we were waiting in line for a blast of hot air from the body-dryers, I heard a roll of thunder. I looked up, and saw the looming threat of a thunderstorm creeping nearer and nearer. We had had a good run, but it was here. Chubby Rain.

    I urged Sam, begged him, we needed to go to the Hulk ride immediately, it was going to shut, the storm was coming.

    As we ran (Sam ran, I kind of sprinted and then devolved into a limping Igor) the rain started hitting the ground. Deceptive, at first. A soft rain, the kind that doesn’t seem to bad until you realise the reason your clothes are sticking to your body is that they’re soaked through.

    We shoved our stuff in a free locker, and sped onto the ride.

    “Guys, just so you know, the ride is shut temporarily due to the weather.”

    As we stood there, devastated, as gigantic drops of gigantic rain flooding the floors, pouring onto us, dripping off our water-proof jackets, over our hoods. We knew. We had got here too late.

    All was not lost, however. We met the other guys for a very expensive and very unsatisfying meal, but it did us for the rest of the day. The skies cleared, and we managed to have a pleasant stroll through Harry Potter’s Wizarding World rather pleasantly. We took the Hogwarts Express all the way back to London, where Universal had made Diagonal Alley so realistic that as soon as we stepped onto Platform 9¾ in London, the skies opened once more and the rain fell. But still! Not to worry. With Butterbeer in hand, and a little stroll under cover (Diagonal Alley is well prepared for this kind of weather) we passed the time in sugar-filled contentment, and ventured out once the skies had cleared a little.

    The Simpsons next, a wonderfully set-up area which made you feel as if we’d stepped into Springfield, gained an unhealthy yellow skin-tone, and lost a finger. Then, sensing another down-pour, Sam, Adam and I rushed to Rip-Ride, the only big roller-coaster we would get to go on on this day. Because after harrowingly waiting in line, anxiety peaking as the announcements about the “incoming storm” grew more frequent, we got on, had a fantastic ride, saw the photographs… And the skies finally crumbled for good, the rain incessant all the way up until 21:00 that evening.

    All in all, although at times frustrating, it was a positive experience to visit a theme park with intermittent thunderstorms. It cleared out the park through the day, to the point where after Rip-Ride we managed to go on Transformers, and twice on the Mummy, with a total waiting time of about ten minutes. Yes, it was a little lame to have been unable to dry-out properly after the water rides. And yes, it did suck a little more for those who didn’t have heavy duty water-proofs. And I was the only one with enough of a phobia of wet-feet that came in sandals and managed to avoid the soggy squelch of a drenched trainer.

    However, we had a great time. We were altogether, laughed a lot, panicked a little about the rain, and then had fantastic and completely indulgent desserts on the way back to the car-park. It was a good day.    Read more

  • Andy ZWFlorida Bishes.
    Day 7

    Faux Thunderstorms & Bahama Bay

    May 15, 2018 in the United States ⋅ ⛅ 27 °C

    Today, desolately, we had all agreed that the dream of visiting the Florida snorkling cave, was, just that. A dream. With promises of almost constant rain, and intermittent thunderstorms, it was deemed that a two-hour drive was too risky, and too unpredictable. 

    As the orchestra swells, and the violins get ready for their emotive solo, I ask the conductor to pause for a moment, because, when we awoke, it was a beautiful sunny day. And so, after the first proper leisurely morning of the holiday, lounging by the pool and rolling around like the fat little seals we were all becoming, we all departed for Bahama Bay. 

    Chloe and I were over the moon. Even better, the boys were determined to golf. Her and I were being dropped off for a full solo pool-side day. Books, sunshine, a little bit of a photo shoot. No interruptions. It is not a lie when I say that, as soon as we set foot in the beautiful pool-resort, the Chlo and I quickly ushered the boys out, before they could change their minds. 

    What ensued were a beautiful three hours of bliss. An iced Malibu-Mango-Coconut-Triple Rum-Piña Colada-Whipped Cream beauty accompanied us in our relaxation adventure. I swam, Chloe read, I read, Chloe read, we photographed, Chloe read. It was a dream partnership. 

    The rumbling thunder finally arrived, and fully satisfied of our time, we ventured into the little covered bar area, and sat there, content, as the rain escaped the heavy clouds above us and showered the once burning ground. It was a dream. 

    Then the boys arrived. They seemed content themselves, having successfully drowned some golf-balls and killed some eucalyptus plants, so together we seemed like a pretty satisfied lot. With promises of a “big” night out (definitely not, as Universal is tomorrow and we will be making the most of that $170 park-entry fee) we headed off home, relaxed, rested, and, on my part, happily found I had regained some of mediterranean skin tone that makes me feel a little less like a walking husk. In summary: photosynthesis levels: 90% restored.     Read more

  • Andy ZWFlorida Bishes.
    Day 6

    Shopping & Ray-Bans

    May 14, 2018 in the United States ⋅ 🌧 21 °C

    We shopped today, to escape the rain. I went to Sephora and got gifted with a hundred and one things, because, well, this is America. Also, I spent a lot (not all of it was for me, let me be clear). 

    I was then absolutely dragged, and I will never say anything different, to "Bath & Bodyworks" and was absolutely enchanted by the candles. Little more spending was done, in honour of a beautiful smelling home. Then, of course, the Ray-Ban store. I am a sunglasses fan. I admit it. I love them. I love having six different pairs, to use depending on the occasion, depending on the mood, depending on the outfit, goddamnit. I use them all, love them all, and scratch people who tell me I have too many and try and dissuade me from getting more. Nobody stopped me today. And I left the store a happy pair richer. 

    Oh! And we went to a pub quiz. We came fourth. We worn a tiny, amazing, iron little baby pan. I was so happy. It fit in my handbag perfectly. 

    “Frying pans! Who knew?!”    Read more

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