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In security

  Mon 13th February 2023

Back from Tenerife, I waded through nine hundred whatsapp messages on my work phone, mainly things like in-group-hugging emojis and emails saying "thanks Bev" sent to a hundred-and-twenty people as well as Bev, from people who, decades in, still can't work out the difference between "reply to" and "reply to all"; most of it is drivel, brown-nosing and empty-headedness.

At Bristol airport, the red light goes on as I walk though the body scanner and I am waved away from the queue. For some inexplicable reason, I seize a couple of seconds' inattention from the security guard to take my amphetamine out of my pants and into my hand, despite seeing the man before me being asked to show his hands to the guard.

First I have to lean on a foot-scanning machine one foot at a time; then I am pressed all over -- then asked about my left shoulder. "Turn round," he said. "Look, it's showing something in your left shoulder." I shrugged, and he waved me through. I was quite shaken; fortunately there are bars in airports.

We passed a very enjoyable week dancing and drinking at a hotel takeover where a couple of DJs I know were playing. We were in the Lads On Tour end of Tenerife: couples had late night domestics in the street, and the expats (or "immigrants" as they don't like to be called) indulge in a drinking culture that makes Glasgow look tame. A beautifully-situated beachfront bar was sullied by a party from Plymouth shouting their heads off, above which one woman, as if to settle the cacophonous argument, shouted "I've got cocaine." They were drunkenly happy and good-natured; just so loud.

Most of the time though, we had nothing to do with the sub-species of blob-like Brits, their ugly shorts, their swearing, and their inauthentic yelling at the giant-screen football, voices fuelled by the tasteless Mozambican Dourado lager which achieves equilibrium between quality and price -- being sold in one place, during the daytime, for a Euro a pint. We instead, were dancing with sociable and friendly folk on the hotel terrace by day, and in the nightclub after sundown, the windows open to the soft African air. We inadvertently caught one of our fellow party-goers, a chatty man from Belfast, in the background of a photograph.

Mel fitted in fine, chatting away, dancing, and making me not worry about her. House music for four days and nights would be a test for some, but we had several escapes, many of which involved patisserie; and on our last day, after the do had ended, we went to Santa Cruz, the capital, and had a look round the surprisingly lifeless old town, with its beautiful, abandoned nineteenth century houses.

And I am still wondering how the reggae bar downstairs, run by an amiable Senegalese fluent in four languages, makes a living from so few customers. One might be tempted to draw a perverse conclusion from the sign in the window saying "no drugs here."


Comment from: Eryl [Visitor]

A week of dancing in a warm climate sounds like a fantasy! Unfortunately I’m the only person in my circle of family and friends who would like it. Apart from my niece, who has made it explicitly clear that as much as she loves me she draws the line at taking me along with her on such a trip, understandably.

Tue 14th February 2023 @ 09:12 Reply to this comment
Comment from: [Member]

Yes, I’m not sure I’d love to be seen with my auntie on the dance floor. But with one’s peers, it’s great therapy (although my aching limbs were straining to tell me otherwise).

Tue 14th February 2023 @ 23:45 Reply to this comment
Comment from: Scarlet [Visitor]

I would like a week dancing in a warm climate, too. Though maybe not to house music - getting fussy in my old age.
Yep, Plymouth is loud.

Tue 14th February 2023 @ 12:25 Reply to this comment
Comment from: [Member]

Well, it can be done quite cheaply. We got there from Bristol for £50 return each, as, probably, did the loudmouths, as I think the inhabitants of Plymouth will be known henceforth.

Tue 14th February 2023 @ 23:51 Reply to this comment
Comment from: kono [Visitor]

You’re a brave man taking gear through the airport security, well done my friend but be careful ;) if i fly domestically i always take my weed cuz with the card i just act dumb and say i have a medical card, they don’t even care anymore in the States, strange…

funny how people don’t understand the “reply all” button, i’ve had some interesting messages bleated out byu soccer moms who didn’t undetrstand that very thing, lol!

and of course the reggae bar is the go to for drugs, hence the sign, lol! i have a few stories about those types of establishments… imagine that, haha! sounds like a fantastic holiday my friend!

Sat 25th February 2023 @ 13:27 Reply to this comment
Comment from: monkey man [Visitor]


Thu 23rd March 2023 @ 10:19 Reply to this comment
Comment from: looby [Visitor]


Fri 31st March 2023 @ 22:20 Reply to this comment

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WLTM literate woman, 40-65. Must have nice tits, a PhD, and an mdma factory in the shed, although the first on its own will do in the short term.

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