Saturday 21 May 2011: Going to Ibiza
After an horrific flight best described as the Braehead Centre with wings (First Choice, my arse), we arrived on the island. Slightly late, a bit red-eyed, but very glad to be alone at our villa.
It's very boring holidaying in exactly the same place two years on the trot, but boring is precisely what's needed; I know where everything is, and I know there's no internet. Perfect.
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