After months of coursework, revision and seemingly never-ending exams, I had finally finished my A-levels and subsequently school, forever! There was literally nothing else on my mind but getting the hell out of the country for my upcoming girl’s holiday.
Like almost every other 18 year old in the UK we headed to Thomson to book a cheap holiday to one of the European 18-30 hotspots, and headed off for two weeks of sun, sea, sand and shots. We purposefully stayed in the most renowned party hotel in Mallorca, the Fiesta Jungla – and for some unknown reason I returned the following year to the exact same hotel to do it all again
Here are a few things I learned about 18-30 holidays:
- You will need another holiday when you leave – you will come back having not slept more than a total of 10 hours in two weeks, a minimum of 3 inexplicable injuries and some sort of super-flu
- The club reps will rip you off: taking extra money out will mean you will come home with pointless purchases/various paraphernalia/a worse hangover
- There is always one girl in the club who is willing to get naked on stage – under no circumstances let this girl be you or any of your friends. If your friend does try to be this girl use physical force if necessary to stop her – if this doesn’t work and she ends up on stage ensure you have a video camera to hand so you can blackmail her with the evidence at a later date.
- The likelihood is that you and your friends will all fall out at some point. The heat/alcohol/everyone’s generally annoying qualities will get too much and there will no doubt be a lot of tears – the amount of fall outs will increase in direct correlation to the amount of girls on the trip.
Anyway, feeling nostalgic last week I had a look through my old e-mail account and stumbled across some e-mails I sent to my mum from the two holidays. So here is a little glimpse into my 18 year old self…
I thought I would give you an e-mail as I’m sat indoors for an hour or so while it’s stupidly hot, trying to avoid burning and letting the whole of Magaluf know about my secret ginger skin.
I’m still alive and everything is great here – so you really don’t need to keep calling me twice a day. I’m also doing a pretty good job of surviving on pot noodles and those miniature pots of jam we keep stealing from the breakfast cart so I reckon Uni is going to be a breeze.
***** is fine too, can you PLEASE stop ringing her Mum and asking questions, I think your frightening her – when I said she had to get stiches when she fell off the bar I was wildly exaggerating after a few drinks. It’s literally just a tiny steri-strip. Although her eye is a bit fat and she’s bruised her Coxix so she’s got a sort of Quasimodo-ish look about her. She didn’t see the humour in our impressions of hunchbacks lolloping around.
In other news I’m in love with one of the Scottish lads who’s staying across the hall. So far our relationship has consisted of him winking at me (although ***** thinks he was just squinting at the sun – but she’s just got a cob on because of the whole hunchback episode) and him saying something to me at the pool – I have no idea what because I can’t understand a word he says, so I laughed awkwardly and said yes.
With any luck it was an invitation to run away with him. Anyway I’ll see you in ten days – unless of course in the meantime I manage to bridge the accent gap with Mr. Hot Scotland, in which case I will be buying a kilt and eloping.
Hope your all good, give Pud a kiss from me
Love you xxxxxx
PS. I saw I midget playing the bongo drums last night, I hope they’re paying him, it was BRILLIANT
Followed a few days later by…
Didn’t want to ring because it’s 4:30 here but just to let you know that everyone is HORRIBLE and I hate them. So I’m getting a flight home in the morning. I’m going to wait til everyone’s asleep until I go and get my passport and then im’ gioing to sleep outsid ethe travel agent.
Will ring in the morning
Love you loads ahd loads xxxxxxx
Needless to say I didn’t sleep outside the travel agent, or get a flight home the next day. Instead I woke to a horrible hangover and a frantic phone call from my mum wondering what the hell had happened.
My friends and I can laugh about the holidays now but, like many things, spending any sort of serious time with someone can really test a friendship – some get stronger but it’s sad to say that some don’t last. A few of the girls who I considered my best friends during my high school years are people I barely speak to now, never mind see.
It’s always sad when someone you know becomes someone you knew, but each and every one of those girls; the good times, the bad times, the laughter, the arguments we had together, helped shape me into the person I am today – and for that, they will always have a place in my heart.