The holiday diaries: Gran Canaria Nov 2006
Monday, December 04, 2006
Saturday 25th November 2006
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How come if Gran Canaria is "only" four hours away, it takes so long to get there? Travel to and from airports, check in time, waiting for luggage = 2 grumpy travellers. And it all started off so well…
.
we woke at 6.30am and by the time we had showered and had coffee, DazProzac was extremely overstimulated and dancing round the living room in his Hanes (see they aren't just for Jessica Simpson!) It's certainly a mental image that will never leave me. Because we wanted infinitely better flight times, we chose to fly from Manchester airport. In the words of Catherine Tate's Mrs Taylor – worra load of old shit. The departure lounge had too many things all crammed together, the shops were appallingly laid out and there weren't enough seats. It's one redeeming feature was (naturally) a starbucks, so DazPleasureBeach and I enjoyed a nice panini and coffee. Yummers
.
The flight was pretty good – we got exit seats so were able to stretch out and relax. Apart from the grumbling of the old man next to us – he didn't like the announcements; the gay trolley dolly was too enthusiastic; the captain was two minutes out when he announced the local time; I was disturbing him when I had my reading light on, etc., etc. Still, it helped us bond with the cabin staff by sharing discreet and then not so discreet looks and rolling eyes. I had my mp3/video player so listened to the new antonym callea (meh) and Westlife's The Love Album. I also watched Not Another Gay Movie – a film so politically incorrect, that I'm sure I should have been offended by the lazy stereotypes. But I wasn't. I thought it was pretty funny. Clearly, though, nobody in England would buy Graham Norton as sexy – and I certainly won't look at him the same way again after his Belgian surprise (a scene that took me so much by surprise that I accidentally hit the slow reverse button and got to watch it all "go back in")
.
After landing and picking up our rental car (a Renault Clitoris or some such nonsense), we dumped our cases and went out for a boogie. Only, we were shattered and tia maria & orange juice only added to the tiredness and made us delirious. After being unable to decide whether two drag queens doing Heads, Shoulders, Knees & Toes was an illusion or not (it wasn't :O ), we decided to pop into brill musicals bar, Centre Stage to see our friend Gez. Kept eyes open long enough to catch up on the gossip/sing a few Chicago numbers/do various Catherine Tate impressions, before I dragged an almost catatonic DazPlastered home and lay awake for forty minutes listening to him moan "I'm so tired…" Still, got some good snuggling out of it though…
.
MP3: Antony Callea – Home
MP3: Westlife – The Dance
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Sunday 26th November 2006
.
READ: Q Magazine; started Skeleton Key (alex rider)
WATCHED: Nip/Tuck 411; Prison Break 212
LISTENED: Simon Curtis' "Put Your Makeup On"; Switch22's "Back To The Dancefloor"
BOUGHT: David Beckham's Instinct.
.
What a lazy day we had. We both hauled ourselves out of bed at about 11am, went for a little walk around before deciding that we were too tired for such exertions and headed back to our little bungalow for some lunch and a spot of sunbathing before a "power" nap that 'accidentally' lasted til 7pm. Oops…#
.
Decided to eat at nearby restaurant for dinner and I had quite a tasty lasagne. Darren stretched his culinary palete by having a baked potato with cheese. (something kinda) ooh! Still, to be fair it did look quite tasty…
.
Went to La Belle Showbar where I had the world's largest ever white Russian drink. I mean it was just ridiculously huge :O The glass and contents alone were heavy, yet somehow – just somehow – I managed to choke it down. I was soon quite tipsy and was babbling on about a load of crap to DazPatience whose eyes soon became so iced over you could have skated on them. So we moved onto Centre Stage (which was spookily playing clips from Moulin Rouge the same day that Poppostergirl was posting about it. Fancy!) where we got chatting to a perfectly lovely married couple (I always notice if the gays are wearing rings)who made such an impact that their names escape me right now… Oops part two…#
.
At some point in the evening, DazPanicAtTheDisco surpassed me in the drunken monkey stakes. I can pinpoint the exact second that happened – I came out of the bathroom to see my man waving his t-shirt around his head and dancing with some common navvy. Shocking. Although, clearly I wasn't shocked enough not to whip out the camera and take a topless pic, hehe ;) Said navvy then asked if I wanted a threesome. I swear it is the single gays latest hobby, picking up the married gays. I think I was quite polite and restrained in my response ("step off and take yo eyes of ma man". Or "no" probably…) Ended the night dancing to Ain't No Other Man and realising that as a song, it's not as good as it thinks it is
.
How come if Gran Canaria is "only" four hours away, it takes so long to get there? Travel to and from airports, check in time, waiting for luggage = 2 grumpy travellers. And it all started off so well…
.
we woke at 6.30am and by the time we had showered and had coffee, DazProzac was extremely overstimulated and dancing round the living room in his Hanes (see they aren't just for Jessica Simpson!) It's certainly a mental image that will never leave me. Because we wanted infinitely better flight times, we chose to fly from Manchester airport. In the words of Catherine Tate's Mrs Taylor – worra load of old shit. The departure lounge had too many things all crammed together, the shops were appallingly laid out and there weren't enough seats. It's one redeeming feature was (naturally) a starbucks, so DazPleasureBeach and I enjoyed a nice panini and coffee. Yummers.
The flight was pretty good – we got exit seats so were able to stretch out and relax. Apart from the grumbling of the old man next to us – he didn't like the announcements; the gay trolley dolly was too enthusiastic; the captain was two minutes out when he announced the local time; I was disturbing him when I had my reading light on, etc., etc. Still, it helped us bond with the cabin staff by sharing discreet and then not so discreet looks and rolling eyes. I had my mp3/video player so listened to the new antonym callea (meh) and Westlife's The Love Album. I also watched Not Another Gay Movie – a film so politically incorrect, that I'm sure I should have been offended by the lazy stereotypes. But I wasn't. I thought it was pretty funny. Clearly, though, nobody in England would buy Graham Norton as sexy – and I certainly won't look at him the same way again after his Belgian surprise (a scene that took me so much by surprise that I accidentally hit the slow reverse button and got to watch it all "go back in").
After landing and picking up our rental car (a Renault Clitoris or some such nonsense), we dumped our cases and went out for a boogie. Only, we were shattered and tia maria & orange juice only added to the tiredness and made us delirious. After being unable to decide whether two drag queens doing Heads, Shoulders, Knees & Toes was an illusion or not (it wasn't :O ), we decided to pop into brill musicals bar, Centre Stage to see our friend Gez. Kept eyes open long enough to catch up on the gossip/sing a few Chicago numbers/do various Catherine Tate impressions, before I dragged an almost catatonic DazPlastered home and lay awake for forty minutes listening to him moan "I'm so tired…" Still, got some good snuggling out of it though….
MP3: Antony Callea – Home
MP3: Westlife – The Dance
.
Sunday 26th November 2006
.
READ: Q Magazine; started Skeleton Key (alex rider)
WATCHED: Nip/Tuck 411; Prison Break 212
LISTENED: Simon Curtis' "Put Your Makeup On"; Switch22's "Back To The Dancefloor"
BOUGHT: David Beckham's Instinct.
.
What a lazy day we had. We both hauled ourselves out of bed at about 11am, went for a little walk around before deciding that we were too tired for such exertions and headed back to our little bungalow for some lunch and a spot of sunbathing before a "power" nap that 'accidentally' lasted til 7pm. Oops…#
.
Decided to eat at nearby restaurant for dinner and I had quite a tasty lasagne. Darren stretched his culinary palete by having a baked potato with cheese. (something kinda) ooh! Still, to be fair it did look quite tasty….
Went to La Belle Showbar where I had the world's largest ever white Russian drink. I mean it was just ridiculously huge :O The glass and contents alone were heavy, yet somehow – just somehow – I managed to choke it down. I was soon quite tipsy and was babbling on about a load of crap to DazPatience whose eyes soon became so iced over you could have skated on them. So we moved onto Centre Stage (which was spookily playing clips from Moulin Rouge the same day that Poppostergirl was posting about it. Fancy!) where we got chatting to a perfectly lovely married couple (I always notice if the gays are wearing rings)who made such an impact that their names escape me right now… Oops part two…#.
At some point in the evening, DazPanicAtTheDisco surpassed me in the drunken monkey stakes. I can pinpoint the exact second that happened – I came out of the bathroom to see my man waving his t-shirt around his head and dancing with some common navvy. Shocking. Although, clearly I wasn't shocked enough not to whip out the camera and take a topless pic, hehe ;) Said navvy then asked if I wanted a threesome. I swear it is the single gays latest hobby, picking up the married gays. I think I was quite polite and restrained in my response ("step off and take yo eyes of ma man". Or "no" probably…) Ended the night dancing to Ain't No Other Man and realising that as a song, it's not as good as it thinks it is .
Posted by Paul 12:45 pm
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And XO! I was so glad to get home and drive our much nicer Vauxhall Placenta