So, up early as usual. Well up early enough to make a booking for the Turkish restaurant tonight. So that was done by 9am, so then it was back to the important thing of the morning…sleeping. I woke up and hit Jamie as it was Prozac wearing off day and I’d had one of my dreams, for some reason he was living with his mother. I suppose it could have been some sort of nightmare and I could have been living with mine.

We ventured out at midday after failing to have sex, well it wasn’t like some sort of disfunction we just didn’t bother. Went to the pool bar. I had three coffees and did a bit more Clarkson, I could then face the world, just.

We found a good vacant position by the pool, which was later filled by a selection of skinny German boys, they kept standing up and spraying each other with oil, I was trying to prevent something else from standing up and spraying me with another type of lubricant.

Went to the Italian for lunch which was fairly uneventful, other than I had the spaghetti bog. Returned back to sun bed. I thought about venturing out to Gumbet, but then I decided that venturing to the pool bar would be less of a travel chore and somewhat more rewarding. Stayed there for the rest of the afternoon, drinking beer, reading Mr Clarkson and coming up with amusing porn script ideas for a set of Germans, involving sun tan lotion and table tennis bats.

We returned to the pool bar so Jamie could download an app (it’s one of two places you can get wifi), I could eat cake and drink more beer. We returned to the room to find the mini bar had been replenished, so I sat outside drank two more beers and finished off my book. By then Jamie was in the bath and I was dieing for a poo. All I had to alleviate the pressure was a packet of wine gums. I ate them rather than stuffing them up my arse but it had the desired effect. When I got into the bathroom I fell into the bath, which is only the second time in my life I managed to do this, this time however I was pretty much sober and was caused by the fact that Jamie decided to use half a bottle of shower gel and it was more slippery than David Cameron being interviewed by Jeremy Paxman.

So dinner was booked for 8:30, Jamie decided it was time to get amorous by 8:15, so at 8:28 I was trying to get the remains of a giant erection into a pair of shorts. We made it on time as people keep saying, “oh, isn’t this place big”. No it isn’t. Get over it. It’s probably because you live in a small village in Sussex and you class your Volvo as ‘quite big’. The meal was ok. I ordered the hot and spicy, neither of which it lived up to. Warm and bland would have been a better description. Still Jamie says its the same as the ones he orders at home, I protest, In that the ones he orders at home I would prefer to eat the polystyrene box, rather than the contents. We then walk past the amphitheatre where during the meal it sounded like ‘yes’ were doing a reunion concert and I expected to see Rik Wakeman in a cape playing synth surrounded by fire. Instead I saw a sad Russian women dangling from a scarf being watched by about 4 people.

We retired to the pool bar, where I tipped my favourite bar man, which means I will never have to queue or place my order again for the rest of eternity. There is now some abstract women over at the Windmill Bar (which is about 8 feet away, I said it wasn’t big), singing Jesse J, she’s now on Tom Jones, and if anything earlier is to go by, she will be breaking out that cape and setting the pool alight.

And that now brings us pretty much up to date. So now for angry birds.