Maj fer it

We were all up on time which turned out to be far too early as we then spent spare time watching TV or Minecrafting or looking at the list for the 19th time. When we finally left the house we practically Star-Trek-Transported to the airport at 85mph and parked in the very very far away long-stay car park. The transfer bus materialized instantly leaving us only 2 1/2 hours to wait for our flight.

I babbled and bounced and gabbled and flounced and pointed out all the important events and objects in the airport which was everything. Our 1100 flight was put back to 1135, and by 1210 we were airborne. Sadly cloud cover obscured our view of the coast but we rediscovered Earth over France, saw the Pyrenees and bumped into Palma on a sheet of turbulence.

The flat-buses chased each other round every available corner of the airport and we breezed through the conveyor belt room and found a minibus to take us to the Hotel Cala Mandia, via many villages including one with a Cactus Bar. My advice - don't have a drink there, it'll be spiked, you'll get the needle etc. It's always complicated arriving at a new hotel and this one is all over the place with outlying districts, 3 of which are the other side of main roads. Our section was over the road but Spaniards seem quite good at stopping for the Zebra crossing. Our local pool is right outside the window so I tried it first. Descending 3 flights of marble stairs below reception we found the main Pool and tried it. Next to it is a splashpad and a little rectangular pool so we crossed them off the list too and had tea.

Showers are an important factor for us all. Too many times we've battled wilting downspouts, randomly fluctuating temperatures or self-shutting doors but the one in our room was just a matter of decoding the hexadecimal Asgard control panel and luxuriating in its 1 1/2 acre tray. Following a limited exploration of the local environs, we hit the local Tavern (Flower Power) while waiting for Jof to dress. This meant 3 beers and some yellow hibiscus flowers.

The restaurant we got to first had a big queue and a lot of confusion with hot and cold running chefs and foodstuffs of all nations. Jof got salad that turned out to be octopus and Bud got chicken breasts that turned out to be stuffed squid and I got so overwhelmed I got pasta and chips which got me in so much trouble last year. 2 refills and a choux pastry later, we had a deal and I tried kiddie-gambling (I lost 7 future children) and we settled down in front of the evening entertainment having checked out the glass-bottomed boat schedule in German.

There was a lot of Cabaret-style dancing and Hollywood Oscar-related shenanigans and we wandered home past the local Flower-Power stage which appeared to feature a very Teutonic Hall + Oates. Last time we met former premiership footballer Robbie Savage enjoying a post-football retirement operating a glass-bottomed boat enterprise (Starfish) near Cala Barca. Thus we had expected to find some other ex-B-listers and were not disappointed as Herr Hall und Oates reviewed hits of the 80s on a Hammond organ and drum kit. Bed was welcome although I was annoyed that I couldn't get UK TV. I did meet some Latino Pokémon-Go players, however.