We are sitting at our kitchen table with a bottle of red wine, which makes a change from the silver baggies that Sims has been drinking from for two weeks, and a large can of Stella Artois from the beer fridge, so for tonight, at least, the magic wristband seems to be working.
The eleven hour flight was painful. The aeroplane seemed to slow down the closer it got to the UK. Then the taxi got stuck in rush hour traffic and seconds turned to minutes and minutes to hours... but eventually we got home with, thanks to our fellow travellers, 1,000 cigarettes. Much obliged chaps! Well played!... Stella Artois, the cat, has chosen to ignore us. That's disenfranchised cats for you.
Although the adventure is over the memories will stay with us forever. I hope that over the past month the blog has brought the odd smile to your miserable faces, and lightened your dark days. It was great for us. For a couple of oldies we had the kind of unadulterated fun that should be reserved for teenagers. We both agreed that if there is ever a next time Josh should come with us; if for no other reason than to keep us in check.
But, perhaps, the best response we got to the blog was on reddit.com from a woman called Alice Capone. I shall post it verbatim:
"Please tell your parents that if they ever want to share a vacation house on the Gulf of Mexico with a couple of like-minded middle-aged smoking wastrels (who can cook), we will pack the fuck up and motor on down there immediately with extreme glee. It appears they can keep up with our drinking and sarcasm habits, therefore would make awesome vacation partners!
If your parents can handle the inevitable weirdness, that is; such as when we went late-night drunk swimming and I got stung by a jellyfish on my belly; extreme high drama ensued, including a 2 a.m. emergency run to the mainland hospital because we sprayed that shit with Bactine and I went into shock, only to come out of it halfway there and insist on returning home immediately to treat my pain with copious amounts of booze.
Didn't realize WTF had actually happened till the next day, when it occurred to us to, you know, look at my wound site and check that shit online. After which: "Ew. You're supposed to pee on it?!" "Well, better lie down, baby" "I AM TOTALLY FINE NOW"
Glad you're better Alice... and, who knows, we might just take you up on the offer! Can we get there via Hussong's Cantina in Ensenada? It's one of my favourite pubs in the whole world!
So now I've got to try to find time to edit over six bloody hours of HD footage into a holiday video that I have promised everyone will not exceed three minutes.
Finally, to my best mate, Al, whose brain cancer diagnosis spurred us on to book the holiday we needed and to sod work for a couple of weeks. Thank you friend. We love you. It would have been great to have had you and Rita with us. Hopefully next time, when we'll be with you on your postponed honeymoon.
THE END
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