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I went to Spain!

Current situation. Sitting in bed eating mortadella sandwiches, staring out at the rain and urging my brain to forget that this time yesterday I was in Spain. I've booked a Legs, Bums & Tums class to try and ease myself back into normality but the thought of working tomorrow is eroding my soul. In an attempt to remind myself that I won't be in customer service forever, I've decided to write. On this blog. I know. Don't all die of shock at once. 

(Do it slowly so I can savour it.)

The main and most aggravating reason that I do not blog is my fixation on establishing a niche. I've toyed with being a music blogger but I much prefer writing for publications. I've attempted beauty blogging, but my words fall flat when describing an eyeshadow. At one point I even considered fashion blogging but that concept was shot down when I remembered I literally only wear jeans and t-shirts.

I don't think I'm a particularly 'nicheable' person. (No that's not a word, fight me.)

I've reached a point now where I'm thinking, 'sod it.' I've been blogging for years now and I haven't found a niche so I'm pretty sure it's not going to happen anytime soon. Instead, I'm going to blog about whatever I'm interested in. Whether that's a political piece on cuts to domestic violence services (spoiler: they are bad, very bad) or, a high-class, cultural piece on the best £5 wines avaliable in Tesco, I'm gonna write it all. Because not writing makes me miserable. And I'm an arse when I'm miserable.

Today, I'm going to write about the aforementioned trip to Spain. And by 'write' I mean 'post pictures and tell you how good I looked in my red swimsuit'. I'm not going to write a lot about Spain for two reasons. Firstly, because I've already gone on for quite a bit and I don't know why you're still reading and secondly, it wasn't the most cultural holiday we could have gone on. It was no Malia, but let's just say it was definitely the kinda place where you'd get scampi and chips over a seafood paella.

We went for five days and it was really cheap, just to rub that in for you. We had a private pool, a roof terrace that we littered with sangria bottles and tab ends and access to our own personal, racist chauffer. One night we went to Alicante and had Italian food because when in Spain, ammaright? At one point I had a long island iced tea because I was tired, but then I discovered it doesn't actually have any tea in it and so I was just drunk. We went to one club where I'm pretty sure Megan was almost groomed by a middle-aged Spanish woman and another where she threw up! The hilarity. Eventually, we got a taxi home because the club tried to charge us to get in and erm, excuse me we are British and we refuse to pay. We didn't use our racist chauffeur that night and the drive home was alive with the feeling of tolerance and understanding.

The next day we had steak and said goodbye to our friend who had to go home early for a thing called "work." We continued to drink sangria. We listened to Stevie Nicks, LP and Zepplin. The rest of the time we spent by the pool showing off our very good underwater yoga moves and complaining about the heat. I wore a red swimsuit that made me feel like a goddess amongst men and lost every underwater handstand competition that was held. Eventually, we had to leave, which was extremely rude and inconvenient. We flew home on a plane with one engine.

1 comment

  1. I'm right there with you wishing I was back in Spain, was there last month now? I dunno time is a blur but this Irish weather is killing me. Also applause to you for not having a niche and not giving a shit, I feel like I'm in the same boat so relate a lot to you right now haha!
    It sounds like you had a fantastic time also no photos of the red swimsuit? I'm swim suit obsessed and would love to see the set that made you feel like a queen!

    x - Rai