long time no me!

when a man is tired of blogging, he is… on holiday of course.
so, just back from a week fighting them (off) on the beaches.
if they weren't trying to sell us coconut (which, btw, i saw them washing in the same place where people washed off their feet - right next to the portaloo) it was sarongs. do i look like the kind of person who would lay on (or worse, wear!) a sarong.
then of course, there was mobile Vision Express, each outdoing each other in the cheap and nastiness stakes. Finally there were the warm can men - beer, coke, diet coke. you name it. they had it. warm.
so, on the beach a booming economy.
leave the sunny shore though and it's a different matter. the credit crunch is biting hard.
how did we know?
snacks. or lack of.
a post-beach ritual of the Short holidays is a G&T at Bar Maripili, AKA the lesbian bar. each year we are greeted like 'faamly' and don't even have to order our G&T, it just magically appears alongside a lovely little plate of mixed nuts and pretzel bites, which, after a hard day's frazzling really hit the spot. NOT ANYMORE! this year, no matter how hard i looked (under the table, under the chairs, under the beermats) i couldn't find a crumb.
And it's not just the bars. the cafes are equally strapped. where once you would find a lovely little biscuit to go with your cafe con leche of a morning you now get, well, NADA actually. unless you're the kind of person who counts a spoon as added-value. which i certainly don't.
And I'm sure you're wondering about my tan.
As you know, i try and keep my non-surgical-procedured face out of the sun but even i catch a few rays while i am away.
the result? two rather orange cheeks.
my face is now so sensitive to the sun that i get a blotchy tan.
for a couple of days i looked like an extra from an 80s new romantic pop video.
orange! rosy i could cope with. deep beige at a push but orange! i looked like i'd been attacked by an 80s teenager with a blusher brush.