Final day of the adventure in Rhodes, seeing as we fly at 1:30am tomorrow this means today will be about fifty hours long.
That’s all to come. First up another day lying on sun loungers reading. This morning’s book: Forever the People by Paulo Hewitt. I thought it was really poor. It’s meant a chronicle of the Oasis world tour that followed the release of Be Here Now. And it is that, so it’s not a complete failure as far as this goes. I just felt it was quite poor. Having read another of Hewitt’s books on Oasis, Getting High (that I bought the day Be Here Now, small world eh?), I felt a bit let down. It might have been about 15 years ago when I read it but I remember it as being quite good. A sample anecdote is telling how Guigsy (the bass player in Oasis, don’t you remember anything?) has his pint nudged and says to the person who does it to be careful as people get shot for less where he is from. But rather than tell the anecdote as Guigsy clearly being a cock (or having a tongue-in-cheek joke) it is told as though he is hard/from Compton.
To be fair, there is some decent stuff in there – you do go from thinking “why is Noel so hard on Liam all the time, he should give him a bit of a break” to thinking “how has no-one pushed Liam off tall building” to “how good would it be to have a night out with either – though probably not both?” Sorry if I was a bit harsh Paulo, you just occasionally made me think you were a bit of a plonker but I’ll give this book a 5/10 (if you’re an Oasis fan, 1/14 if you’re not).
There is a lad doing laps of the pool. He can do all the different swimming styles – as opposed to me being able to do one-fifth of the breast stoke (the swimming one you dirty bastard). When he does the butterfly MJEA points out it’s a bit like someone having a fit. To be fair, she has a point. It makes me wonder how many epileptic people don’t do the butterfly stroke as it makes it impossible for people to know if they are OK or not. And, to a lesser degree, how many people have dived into a swimming pool to save someone from drowning while having a fit only to find out they were doing the butterfly stroke.
A day of sitting around the pool (enjoyable) is followed by an evening of sitting in the hotel lobby (less enjoyable) and an hour sitting on a coach (same enjoyable as the lobby – lightened by listening to my iPod and finding out United were one-nil up) and then a couple of hours knocking about the airport – where I pay £9 for a small cup of coffee and a slice of pizza; you can say one thing about Rhodes Airport but you can’t say the owners of the food & drink concessions don’t know that they a captive audience with little competition. And if you have been going around saying that: I suggest you stop, lest you get a bad reputation.
It is not long before we are sat on the plane and I’m relatively happy: we are the back row so that means only people beside and in front of me, no-one behind me. This glory is short-lived as the large-headed old twat in front of me has her fucking chair back as far as it will go – which is not far from my face. And the chairs on the back row don’t go back at all so I have no escape. This coupled with my inability to sleep in public – no matter how tired I am – means the flight home is not as pleasant as I would like it to be. I can’t even read my book as I feel a bit of a cunt having the light on when no-one else on my row does and I give a shit about other people – unlike the massive headed bastard in front of me.
I think reclining seats should be banned on budget flights as there is not enough room as it is.
I’d be happy serving me a piss-poor cup of coffee for £4.