Hello all! Bet you thought I'd fallen off the edge of the planet. Well in a manner of speaking I did. I've been in Ibiza which, for those of you who've been, will know means a long (both mental and physical) recovery time. I arrived back in Madrid last Friday and since then have been so occupied with moving out of my flat, goodbye parties and generally being very very busy and important, that this is the first opportunity I'm getting to update my blog.
So, Ibiza. It's just the best place ever in my opinion. In summer there's nowhere else I'd rather be. It has everything you could ever want from a holiday: Incredible beaches, fantastic restaurants, stunning scenery, beautiful people (if you nuke San Antonio) and the best clubs in the world. Also (and I don't want to sound too much like an aging hippy with matted dreadlocks and an Auschwitz looking dog) there really is something magical about the place. You can't put your finger on it, but there's just a certain feeling that pervades the whole island. Time is of no consequence in Ibiza. From the moment the airplane doors open and you feel that warm rush of air on your face, you know you're in for the time of your life. Of course it helps if you're staying in a palatial villa and have friends who can get you VIP access to all the best nights on the island. But don't get it twisted. I've paid my Ibiza dues over the years. I've stayed in several sweaty cupboards in San Antonio and queued up with the rest of the plebs to pay my 60 euros entrance fee to the clubs. It doesn't matter. At the end of my time there I'm always trying to change my flight and begging for more!
I don't want to bore you with too many details of the trip. You would end up wanting to castrate me as I can assure you it was the best holiday ever. Suffice to say I went with the perfect group of people, we had a villa to die for, danced until our feet bled, laughed until we pissed ourselves, had musical orgasms at incredible clubs around the island, educated ourselves on several questionable sexual practices (space docking anyone?), discovered our hatred for rowdy Italians on speed, expanded our vocabularies (gunts, don't ask!), almost had a fist fight with an offensive pot bellied, ginger Dutch midget, lounged in the sun, ate some delicious food, invented a new game to amuse ourselves for hours in nightclubs, sexually abused an innocent granite column, the list goes on and on. Did I mention we laughed a lot?!
And on the men front? Well, I can tell you that I'm still as pure as the driven snow. It's not for lack of beautiful boys though. There are guys in Ibiza who make you want to sit down and cry they're so beautiful. I just find that when I'm a gurning, sweaty mess with a shirt so drenched it looks like I was tossed in the sea fully clothed (no exaggeration, it's not pretty) it's generally not the best time to approach the bronzed adonis standing in the corner. Let's get it straight here. I went to Ibiza for a "fat rave" and to hang with my friends. If anybody acceptable had shown any interest I would have tried to reciprocate through my alcohol (ahem) induced haze, but no such gentleman was forthcoming. I did fall in love several times though. Man in Run DMC vest at DC10, we will meet again!
As I write, I'm currently homeless. My flatmate and I moved out of our place yesterday and I'm staying with a friend until I come home for good on Saturday. This is definitely a very bittersweet period for me. I'm really happy to be coming home to start a new chapter in both my love and work lives. But I'm so sad to be leaving Madrid and the amazing friends I've made here. Friends who threw me the loveliest going away party last Saturday, friends who I've shared so much with over the last two years, and friends who I hope will be a part of my life until they finally put me in the ground.
As I look towards London again I ask myself what's in store over the coming months? Well, I'm looking forward to being at home again, finding a new job, studying to get on to my masters course next year, seeing where this writing thing takes me, and of course finding myself a lovely guy to share everything with. Normally at this time of year I'm bemoaning the end of summer and cursing the inexorable approach of the cold and neverending dark days of winter. This year though I feel different, more positive. Maybe it's because I'm listening to Beyoncé wailing in my ears at full volume or because the sun is still shining in Madrid. I don't know, I just feel really good about what's to come...
