Worst hangover of the holiday, bar none, as i havent had any until today. A not indistinct sense of self loathing, a sneer on my face, wrinkled brow, and all because I had some Rumn, thats what I’m blaming it on. Not hideously drunk and out of control, funny drunk, the type of funny that you yourself think entertaining but others may not, depending on the time, loudness and proximity to housing, of which I maintain there was none and they wouldn’t be listening anyway.

Saturday night going out late after a sea urchin incident with the younger offspring, kneeing a spine black one briefly before seeing it tumble into the blue abyss and back into the shadows of the pier, several prices, but no spines left behind, we don’t think, but it was dark. The Saturday night safari ;so much tamer in somewhere like Cavtat, than somewhere such as Worcester or even Clifton. Shorts and Skirts, T-shirts and Blouses, tans and full bellies, exhausted by the sun no need for artificial stimulants, but Saturday, football day, a few pints in the bar chatting to another family for the first time this holiday, chat and jokes, half remembered stories quarter told, the best bits elaborated, the worst left out. Assumed glamour of the tourist, comparing apartments and stereotypes quashed. A fun afternoon for sure watching Everton and Wolves, with Leicester on the Phone.

We won, up the Bally Foxes