Well we made it through. The 25-year Magaluf reunion was a real laugh although it might take my sense of smell a while to lose the constant odour of puke, which Magaluf gratefully bestows!
There were two very late nights, each followed by an unfamiliar early afternoon wake up, sandwiched between two nights of two hours sleep each. Last night my room mate beating me to a deep sleep for the first time this weekend so I had to listen to his cacophonous snoring. Once I piece it all together I’ll write more on our weekend amongst the teenagers and geriatrics that mingle, mostly in a very northern accent, in this little corner of Majorca.
Because I try to make my life as complicated as possible, this trip doesn’t stop there. The Magaluf weekend had been in the diary for long time and so had a friends wedding in Chicago next Saturday. All fine so far. I had even pencilled in a little trip to Milton Keynes tomorrow night after the fixtures came out in the summer.
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