Day 6

The plan was that after breakfast we'd walk along the cliff path to Las Galletas, a fishing village about 3 or 4 miles along the coast, have a coffee, then get a taxi back and spend the day on the beach. God laughs at your plans, ha bloody ha.

Started off OK. The path was a bit tricky as it was through volcanic rock and I was wearing flip flops. We were headed for a lighthouse in the distance which we imagined was close to our destination. When we got there, an hour and a half later, blisters on our feet, and climbed its rocky promontary with relief, expecting to see Las Galletas on the other side, we discovered nothing by miles more rocky pathway meandering into the distance. The sun was up. We were hot, thirsty, dry and blistered. And lost in a lunar landscape.

I consulted google maps on my iPhone. We weren't even half way there. Unable to face the rocky pathway, we decided to take the tarmac track inland from the lighthouse and cut through to a roadway I could see on the map. After about a mile, the skin wearing off my blistered foot with every step, we discovered that our route east was blocked by a vast banana plantation. Bloody google maps didn't show the 12 foot perimeter fence around it. Bloody useless satellites. We plodded on looking for a cut through. Lost. Pissed off. In pain. Richard raised his voice at me at one point. Mistake. Big mistake.

Three hours after we set off we limped into Las Galletas, a handkerchief around one foot, a sunglasses pouch around the other. Holly texted in reply to my wailing text for help: 'It's an ADVENTURE, mum, an ADVENTURE!'. Bloody optimist. Always sees the best in everything. I brought her up all wrong.

Las Galletas is the nicest place on the island I reckon. Lovely little fishing village. We slumped at a bar on the seafront and burnt our faces to a cinder.

The wind had picked up and was being really bloody annoying so after some tapas and Sangria we got a taxi home and chilled on the roof.

After a few drinks and a game of cards on the balcony (Richard has started cheating, I'm sure of it) we mosied up to Monolo's place where he was cooking us paella for 8. When we said '8' we meant 8pm. I think he thought we meant 8 people. Was fabulous. We are fat.

Contract score: Richard 868 Luce 768

Day 5

Drove up the volcano, and down the other side. The way up was picturesque and terrifying - a whacky races road clinging to the hill side - and I had one hand gripping the door handle and my left foot hard down on an imaginary brake all the way up. We reached the rim (2100m) and descended into the lunar landscape of the crater. It was impressive but Lanzarote does volcanic better, I reckon. Apart from the massive central Del Teide peak with a cable car up the side taking people to the peak. No bloody way. You must be bloody joking.
Drove down the other side to the north coast. Half way down we descended into the clouds. Weird. The vegetation on the north coast is entirely different because it's cooler and more damp - looked like England all of a sudden; bracken and grass and dense greenery (and grey murky weather). The plan had been to spend the afternoon on a beach on the north coast but the weather was so crap there that we jumped on the autopiste and scooted back round the island to the south. Struggled on to the beautiful beach at El Medano, where the gale force winds had brought out all the insane kite and windsurfers. Was wearing Ali Baba pants (as they call them in India) and as I stepped onto the beach the wind caught them and I did my own special kind of upside down paragliding. I think the surfing dudes were impressed.

Chilled on roof, cooked Spag Napolitana and played cards.

Contract Score: Rich 688 Luce 574

Cheating bastard.

Also...

Forgot to mention:

Contract Score: Richard 490 Luce 436

Bastard.

Day 4

Having 'done' the west coast yesterday and found the beaches too crowded, too small and too black, we drove up the east coast today looking for something better.
The east coast couldn't be more different from the west. It's almost entirely devoid of tourists, and for good reason: the coast line is rocky, battered by 80mph onshore winds and blotted by power stations and huge industrial estates. We headed back to our village on the southernmost tip of the island.

Went for a coffee in Pearl's Pantry. Pearl and her family used to own a pub in Milton Keynes but the sold up and moved here just before the smoking ban killed their business. We thought we'd pick Pearl's brains for some insider knowledge about the best beaches and unspoiled spots on the island, away from too many tourists. She looked at us blankly. We mentioned the west and east coasts we'd visited, but the terms 'north', 'south', 'east' and 'west' seemed to go over her head. We produced a map to help her but she had trouble orientating herself until we pointed out to her where she lives.

Embarrassed by the fact that after two days we apparently knew more about the island she's lived on for the past FIVE YEARS, I changed the subject and asked Pearl what she missed most about England.

'Swedes,' she said, a faraway look in her eyes. 'I long for swedes....'
'Oh, and paracetamol,' she added, as she disappeared back indoors.

We spent the afternoon next to the pool on the roof of our apartment block. The apartments are all privately owned and not generally holiday lets, and as none of the owners seem to be in residence at the moment we had the roof to ourselves. Which was very nice considering it's become apparent that we don't like people much.

After a few early evening drinks and a Contract session on the balcony we wandered up the road to the Tappas Bar, next to Pearl's Pantry. Monola, the owner, is our new best friend. He cooked us some spectacular fresh fish the other night, and tonight he bought us a wonderful selection of tappas.

Next to our apartment are some huge cliffs. As soon as it gets dark an almighty eery racket starts. It's a sound I've never heard before and quite creepy. It sounds like a host of children are in terrible distress and the only means they have of communicating it is via a comb and a piece of grease proof paper. We worked out fairly quickly that the noise was made by birds living in the cliffs and we asked Monola about them.

'Birds!' he said, spreading his arms widely. 'Beeg, brown birds! The man bird ees talking to ze lady bird. Zey leeve in ze caves in ze cliffs. I find out ze English name... Wait...' and he ran off into his bar.

A middle aged man staggered out of the bar.

'You English then?' he slurred in an East End accent. 'You wanna know about the birds?'
'We just wondered what they were called...'
'Seagulls,' he said. 'They only make that noise at night.'

Then he swayed off into the night.

'I always thought they was elephants,' said Pearl from next door. Pearl is clearly retarded.

A family at the next table get up to leave. The grown up daughter stops as they pass our table.

'I thought they were monkeys to start with but I googled it,' she said. 'They're birds. Called Corry Shearwaters.'

We thank her, our faith in English Humankind restored.

As they walk away the father says:
'This time tomorrow we'll be over the Bay of Biscay.'
'Where's the Bay of Biscay?' asks his young son.
'Between Portugal and Morocco, son, between Portugal and Morocco.'

Nope. It's gone again.

Day 3

Drove up the west coast, glancing very briefly at the overpopulated hideousness of Playa de las Americas etc. So many people swigging so much beer, shovelling in so much food and producing so much sewage in such a small area makes me feel a bit sick.

Went as far as Los Gigantes, a nice little fishing village nestled beneath the most GIGANTIC cliffs. Tried to take a picture but it's impossible to do them justice.

Stopped at Puerto Santiago, which has a little beach with soft fine warm black sand. Black sand is just wrong. Also, it gets extremely hot and we were marooned on our little beach towels for the afternoon, like a couple of castaways with bright red noses.

Lovely evening on our huge balcony. Cooked some chicken with eight hundred cloves of garlic and got a bit sloshed playing Contract and listening to Marvin Gaye. Developed into Balcony Disco followed by the Whirley Pits.

Contract score: Rich 246 Lucy 252

Tenerife '12

Been a bit stressed out lately, man, so Rich and I have booked a week in an apartment in a very quiet village in Tenerife. The requirements were no stress and a bit of sunshine. So far so good.

Easy flight with SleazyJet on Saturday from Brizzle. Only shouted at Rich a little bit as he expertly drove the hire car that I point blank refuse to drive on the basis that everything's upside down and back to front.

Fifteen minutes later we were at the apartment, which is modern and luxurious and is equipped with every single thing you could want, including 217 CDs, a billion towels and hair straighteners. Am on mission to find something we need that it lacks. Am failing. It's starting to piss me off. (Today I found a box of tea lights and a selection of sun lotion.)

Slept so well. So quiet, what with no dogs barking, cats scratching, ducks quacking or cockerels crowing. Peaceful countryside my arse. If you want a bit of kip, give me a holiday resort any day. Hope Holly and Grace are coping with them all at home *snigger*.

Rich woke me up with a glass of ice cold juice he found in the fridge. Turned out it was Sangria. Ah well.

Drove east along the coast to Playa Tejita. Few nuddies about for entertainment. I've no problem with naturism; it's just not my thing. Makes me laugh. Saw a man with the most massive todger I've ever seen. HUGE. And his girlfriend wore nothing but a short wet neon green T-shirt and a Brazilian. Didn't seem very 'naturist' to me. More 'exhibitionist'.

Noticed that none of the men strutting up and down the beach with their oversized willies wanging about go for a dip in the freezing cold sea. Can't think why.

Started a game of 'contract' (bit like Bridge but easier to understand) on the balcony whilst watching the sunset. Fabulous.

Wandered up to a local bar and had a plate of fish. I wore expensive cream linen. And drank Sangria. Whilst on my period. Was chaos.

Current Contract score: Rich 60 Luce 60