I am going on holiday!
I am going on holiday without my kids!
I am going on holiday with hardly any money, a string bikini and an expensive golden fake tan. Hurrah!
Maggie, my wayward cousin knows that I am coming. We had a heated WhatsApp conversation earlier in the week where I tried to convince her to come home after my Greek trip so I could just go to out there and enjoy myself. She refused point-blank. I must still keep the belief that persuading Maggie will take a large cocktail and a good half hour, face to face.
Brian, my landlord is getting out of the car at the airport to help me unload my suitcases. I am doing a little dance on the spot and he is raising his bushy grey eyebrows at me.
“Please don’t go crazy in Greece” he moans, shaking his head.
I am so excited I can only manage I squeaked “ok Brian”
“Patricia and I talked at length about your trip last night and we both came to the conclusion that you have the potential to lose control in a warm country with lots of alcohol and wild men.
Excitement is shooting up my spine at the prospect of being in a warm country with lots of alcohol and wild men. Oh my goodness – yes!
“Brian I will be fine!” I say giving him a cheeky wink.
My landlord Brian groans and looks away.
1.15 p.m. I am on the plane, somewhere over Europe, and I have decided to take things steady. I am sipping my second gin & tonic and I am busy talking to a woman sat next to me about dating in your thirties. We are giggling like a pair of school girls at the men on our respective dating apps and getting some concerned looks from other travellers.
3.30 p.m. I have finally arrived in Greece with a throbbing headache and a dry mouth. I don’t think the third gin & tonic did me any favours.
Maggie is waiting for me at the airport. She is wearing a bikini top, a colourful sarong, flip-flops and a straw cowboy hat. As I stagger towards her she throws open her arms and rushes to give me a huge hug.
“Roxy!!” she screams. We do a hug dance thing in the middle of the airport and the world starts to spin before ,my eyes.
“OMG look at you Roxy!” Maggie screeches leaning back to take a look at me. “That is some tan you have going on there!”
I grin and feel a burst of fake bake tan euphoria rising inside me.
Maggie takes one of my suitcases and groans. at the weight of it “How much have you brought with you Cousin?”
“I have outfits for all scenarios!” I gush.
She leads me out of the airport and to a heap of junk which she is calling a car.
“Errrr Mags I am not getting in that!” I exclaim pointing at the rusty old contraption.
“Calm it Roxy, it drives like a dream!” purrs Maggie, stuffing my luggage into the boot. She opens the passenger door and shoves me inside.
“Mags! No!” I gasp.
She gets in, flashes me a wicked smile and removes her flip flops. I stare in horror as she drives off like a maniac…in bare feet!
Driving has never been one of Maggie’s strengths.
I am sat with my eyes tight shut, gripping onto the shabby leather seat for dear life and listening to Maggie shout “ignore the horrid clanking sound, it’s only an engine fault!”
If I am honest there is no real difference with Maggie driving bare foot and Maggie driving wearing shoes.
“Is this your car?” I ask, through chattering teeth.
“The guy who is renting me my apartment out here owns it!” Maggie shouts. “He’s called George”
In my head I am trying to imagine, the Greek landlord version of Brian.
Maggie is swerving around road bends and zipping in and out traffic. She seems to have no real concern about oncoming traffic or her speed.
“Mags please slow down!” I wail, as a wave of nausea washes over me.
“Relax Roxy!” says Maggie placing a tanned hand on my arm.
“I feel sick” I groan, wishing I had not knock backed three gin and tonics in quick secession on the plane.
4.45 P.M. Maggie and I are sat on the beach.
“Wow Roxy that bikini is….amazing!” gushes Maggie as I stand up, give her a twirl and ignore the wolf whistle from the bloke behind us.
“I saw it in the shop and I just had to buy it!” I say, placing my hands on my soft dough like hips and wishing I had done some exercise before coming away.
“All the youngsters are wearing those!” says Maggie, pointing to a crowd of stick like tanned teenage girls who don’t seem to suffer with wobbly bits. I sit back down on my towel in a flash.
“So Mags tell me about this place!” I say, surveying the beach.
“I am a waitress in the George’s bar” Maggie says, placing her sunglasses on the top of her head. Her blonde curly hair has lightened in the sun and she has a wonderful natural golden glow to her.
“Bet its nice living here!” I exclaim, wondering whether me and the kids to move out here. A few handsome Greek teenage boys walk past our towel. Maybe the idea of us moving out here would be a bad as Matilda would be a nightmare.
“It is ok” mumbles Maggie. “My savings have taken a battering as I don’t make much money at the beach bar”.
“Oh” I reply, shelving the idea of the kids and I moving out here.
“But I get to party every night and I have a string of handsome Greek admirers” she says with a wink. The thought of partying every night out here makes me keep he idea of the kids and I moving out here alive.
I decide to get down to the business side of the trip. The family is counting on me to persuade Maggie to come home.
“So you are not going to want to come home and marry Vince?” I ask.
“Roxy!” she laughs. “Here I have lovely warm weather, a zillion parties to go to and dishy Greek men – why would I want to come home!”
I can see her point.
4.45 p.m.. It’s red-hot here. Think I need to cool down.
Maggie is chatting to some friend from the beach so I am off for a swim.
The sea is full of beautiful, athletic looking people who can swim really well. I am trying to give the impression that I am one of them.
“Hi I am Dan from Manchester!” says an annoying bloke, who keeps swimming near me. “What’s your name?”
“Roxy!” I say, looking away and concentrating on my swimming.
“Where are you from?” he asks, swimming really close to me.
“None of your business!” I say and swim off.
“Hey wait up!” he says, powering along side of me.
He is quite good-looking and has a cheeky smile. If he wasn’t so annoying I might talk to him properly.
“Roxy where did you learn to swim like that?” he asks.
I roll my eyes and carry on with my own version of breast stroke.
“I have never seen one swimmer churn up so much froth!” says annoying Dan, staring at my arm movements.
“Can you go away please I am on holiday and enjoying myself!” I say to annoying Dan.
“I can’t go away Roxy, I am intrigued by your unique swimming stroke!” he says.
“I am a very proficient swimmer!” I snap and swim far out to show annoying Dan that I am a proficient swimmer.
4.20 p.m. I had to be rescued by Annoying Dan from Manchester.
Got into a bit of trouble in the sea.
I am currently lying on the beach coughing my guts up. Annoying Dan is sat beside me grinning and telling me that I might want to consider wearing a wet suit the next time I am planning on going deep-sea diving.
He is not funny.
6.23 p.m. Start to get ready for the evening ahead. It feels like old times when Maggie and I used to go clubbing together.
We turn up the music from Maggie’s radio, open a bottle of wine and start to dance around her apartment.
7.34 p.m. Choose outfit for my first Greek evening. I opt for sensible summer trousers, a vest top and some flat sandals.
Maggie takes one look at me, frowns and reminds me that I am off out with her and not Great Aunt Vera.
7.45 p.m. Change outfit. Go for tight-fitting short dress and huge heels. Maggie gives her approval as I stagger about the apartment dousing myself in perfume and deodorant.
8.52 p.m. Maggie informs me that her landlord George owns a bar and that we will be dancing till dawn.
I am shocked at hearing this, Brian, my landlord, is in bed by nine with a warm milky drink and his cross word.
8.56 p.m. Am stood open-mouthed and in shock at the sight of George. He is one hot Greek landlord! If I was to guess I would say he is early forties. He is dark-haired with olive skin, piercing eyes and a smile which makes me take a gulp of air.
Maggie says he is not her type, too rugged and too old for her liking.
She whispers to me that her Greek male admirers are all under thirty. I am impressed seeing as Maggie is pushing thirty-five.
10.13 p.m. Vasilis doesn’t seem interested in me. After a few forced smiles at me he becomes engrossed talking to some British tourists from Blackpool.
I need to find someway of getting him to talk to me. He is so hot!
Annoying Dan from Manchester is at the bar and keeps winking at me. I ignore him.
11.34 p.m. Had far too much to drink and I am now dancing on the table with Maggie.
The hot Greek landlord is not interested in me.
I don’t understand why he wouldn’t be interested in someone like me?
12.05 a.m. Still dancing on table. Think my dress is going to split at the back. My wobbly bits are once again causing me issues.
The whole bar, apart from Vasilis, is staring at our dance moves.
Who would have thought two thirty-something women from the UK could dance so well?
1.09 a.m. Still bopping away on the table. Bit sweaty now.
1.24 a.m. Ahhhhh! I am falling off table in a drunken stupor after a badly performed high leg kick.
I am sending a prayer to God that I will magically land in the arms of the hot Greek landlord.
Annoying Dan from Manchester has caught me and is announcing to the bar that this is the second time he has saved me in twenty-four hours.
He is so annoying!