Ibiza Blog Day Three: The one where the Welsh land, part one

Friday morning is seen in with a can of fruity cider and a couple of hours zzz’s before we all meet up round the pool for day three of lilo action. Breakfast is standard toasted cheese sandwich for me, pain au chocolat for Vick, breakfast club go and source some seaside restaurant and Nana has her obligatory two sausages. We spend the day re-living Amnesia with the Derby boys and its all flirty banter and mega Lolz.

Each day our hotel would receive a trickle of newbies, we could spot them a mile off (being that they walked into the hotel with suitcases) as they were fresh-faced and pale; girls wearing heels and glam flowers in their hair etc. the boys usually jeans (33 degrees people!) and trainers. It was during the afternoon trickle of newbies when the three Welsh boys arrived, unnoticed by myself as I was otherwise occupied poolside. Picture the scene: We are lounging on our sun-beds minding our own business and enjoying 2 euro wines when three new guys stroll right up to where we’re sat and make themselves comfortable. Ugh. I had my judging hat as one in particular was, in my own words, my ideal guy but loved himself. He was sexy and he knew it….. Or so I thought.

Covered in tattoo’s, shoulders as wide as I am tall and a perma-tan, despite the fact that it rains most of the time in Wales, I thought I had called his card already and didn’t give him a second’s thought. The other two were obviously younger and started joining in with our banter straight away. Cute. A ball was thrown about in the pool and mega lolz ensued until the early evening when they clearly decided they couldn’t get enough of our totes hilaire wit and banter. They crashed our pasta party in the evening and we all decided to go down and watch the infamous sunset for the first time since us girls had been there. It turned out to be a lush evening as we joined the crowds on Cafe Mambo beach….then the clouds appeared, taking the sun prematurely. Still, we didn’t let it ruin our evening and decided to hit up the West End as it turned out two of the boys had been to Ibiza before so following their advice we were introduced to our new favourite bar; Delilah’s. It was love at first site for us girls (we’re massive fans of Gavin and Stacey, you see)  A karaoke bar, full of Welsh lads and their Welsh-themed cocktails ‘Grand Slams’ and ‘Six nations’. Heaven. We settled in for an evening of drinking games (Buffalo and Never have I ever) until it all got too much for one particular Welsh boy, the previously mentioned muscle-bound tattooed one. Sensing I was totes the responsible one *coughs* he said he needed 5 minutes walk so I did my famous ‘Walk it off walk’ where you insist on walking, or stumbling, about because you’ve just realised you have drunk far too much and sitting stationery may cause spontaneous spewing, therefore losing all that money you have just invested in getting very drunk. This must have made for a hilarious sight; 5ft nothing girl in pink floaty skirt trying to control a 6ft plus huge guy down the packed West End road, dodging all the PR people and their cheap offers until we could see clear pathway and headed towards the hotel. Being the responsible girl I had been handed his hotel key and planned to walk him back, sober him up then lock him in and come back to join the rest of the newly expanded gang.

Now, dear readers, remember this is the guy (he will be named shortly) I judged immediately and decided I had nothing in common with him therefore I had decided even I wouldn’t have anything constructive to say, so why would he choose me to help him walk? I hadn’t been cold but equally I hadn’t joined much banter with him directly (well, except a particular drunken bet he proposed to me… too explicit for the blog) So I was surprised to be in a one-to-one situ with him. Needless to say I should not have judged and regretted it instantly as he was sweet, funny and thoughtful- nothing like his ‘Big guy’, waxed and perma-tanned appearance would have me believe. We enjoyed a drunken walk back and spent hours talking and listening to Ben Howard *swoons*.

Meanwhile drama ensued with one of the girls and one of the Welsh boys, whilst we were blissfully singing to ‘Send me on my way’ and sobering up enough to go back out. We decide to start again and head back out to the West end, collecting Nana on the way who had snuck back to the hotel and was discovered in her PJ’s, straightening her hair. Hair, like muscles and boobs, is massive out there so taming our manes took some doing!

As we approach the West End strip (again), it clearly was too much too soon for a particular Welsh boy and after one dance we make the executive decision to take him back home. Not before we are rugby tackled by one of my dear friends (who had the mini- drama) who had miraculously found us leaving a club and was in need of some food. Nana went one way with her- me the other and as we yell “Meet you at the airport” to each other we part ways again. Ugh. It would seem the Welsh boys would make things interesting for us as their first night had been the most chaotic and random, and as 20 more of their friends joined us out there over the next week, they did not let us down on the ‘entertainment’ front.

Struggling back, again, I decide to really lock him in this time and ply water down his throat as I hadn’t even enjoyed a proper dance and the evening was still young (2.30am) ……However this may or may not have been the way things ended that night. Oh I realise I need to name the Welsh boy so will use the phrase the girls coined for him, ‘Beefa Boyfriend’, as he makes a few appearances in the days, and blogs, to come.


thoughts please..

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