Sunday 20th September

I'm back from my travels, a pathetic parody of the Ibiza holiday maker (the boho type that inhabits the north of the island I hasten to add, NOT the 'make mine a full English' cretin one encounters in Chav Antonio). My body has packed itself in and I'm ridden with alcohol bloat and a chronic dose of Post Session Depression.

Maladies aside, it was a memorable week of merriment, good company and eh, rain. Yup dear readers, the heavens opened and pissed on us royally for three full days. But did it hinder our debauchery, robust Paddies like ourselves? Never!

We danced with old men in pink turbans, swam naked with hippies, sampled the island's many herbal refreshments and found endless amusement sharing all during a candlelit game of 'I've Never' (the puerile pleasures of uni days never wane). 

A word of warning however, re game playing: couples charades should be avoided at all costs. Boys, 'Gulag Archipelago' is not a fair tradeoff for 'Jaws'.

More installments on our Ibiza shananigans to follow when I get back from tractor testing in Rome. That's if I make it back alive. Have never driven a tractor nor abroad for that matter. Could make for an interesting trip.

See you next week. Hopefully.