A eulogy to a dear friend who passed away 6 years ago. Never forgotten. Les Allen, what a gentleman.

“The future is not a gift, but an achievement”. Albert Einstein famously said this. How true. The majority of people are guilty of taking life for granted, some more than most. Its only when we face mortality that we look back and remember what we did and if what we did made any difference to other people and to ourselves. From a personal point of view i seem to look back at my life more and more with every year that passes and wonder if ive made a difference. If im lucky i have made and been part of many wonderfull memories. If i can continue to help create good memories then i must be a part of other peoples good memories. If i am part of lasting memories then no part of who i truly am will ever die. I gentle man who i have known for 43 years is facing his mortality but i believe he will never truly die because of the memories he leaves behind. I know the first time he kissed his wife will live on her lips for an eternity. I know the memories i have of our time together mean he will always live. What an achievement.

Just a quick note to add before I start the latest instalment. My friend Shuffle and Click (Stuart) has been reading my blog on our recent holiday in ‘Side’ Turkey. I’ve mentioned His testicle flash on a couple of occasions. He has informed me that I haven’t done justice to the size of his testicles . So, I want it to be known that his testicles are not diminutive in size, in fact they would probably put Barnes Wallace Bouncing Bombs in the shade, and they are probably just as eager to explode 😊

During our holiday, and I hope Stuart doesn’t mind me saying this, he was a little bit constipated (I’ve always said it) On one particular day around the pool he told me he was a little bit uncomfortable around the bowel area so was going up to the apartment to try and squeeze one out. (I was delighted he told me that, not) He also informed me he would stand on the balcony and put his thumbs up if he he had been successful (Carry On Up The Khyber springs to mind) and to look out for the sign!! (What the fuck!)

Then I watched him move as quickly as he could and secretly wished him luck! (I kind of felt like the doting wife who watches her soldier husband going off to war)

I remained in the pool, swam to the edge and informed Mother Hen of Stu’s predicament and his intentions. She laughed whilst I kept looking up at the balcony like an expectant father 😊 10 or 15 minutes pasted and I was beginning to wonder if he had split his bowels open trying to part with it, if he had given birth to twins or actually passed away during the big push. He appeared at the balcony like a bald headed Juliet , looked around like a man who had won the battle , spotted me and put his thumbs up in triumph. Eureka, at that precise moment he wasn’t actually full of shite (Jokeeee)

So, that’s part of the story about Stuart’s baby, the second birth happens at Antalya Airport on the journey home but I’ll leave that for the final part.

Now to reveal why we got our nicknames. I’ve already explained why Angie became mother hen, so it’s now time to explain why Stuart became Shuffle and Click, Jackie became the Grave Digger and I became the Carer.

When we were out and about, walking around the streets, going in and out of shops and pubs, we either walked alongside him or waited for Stu to catch us up because of his difficulties with mobility. No problem with that, we didn’t intend to rush about anyway. However, mother hen claimed she could gauge how far Stu was behind us by how loud the click of his walking stick was. The fainter the click of the stick, the further behind he was. On a few occasions, Hen would point out that she couldn’t hear the ‘Click’ so we would look behind us to locate him.  Obviously, we used mother hens listening strategy around the holiday complex to pinpoint where he was. Also, the faint little shuffle he produced was a further indication of where he was. So, shuffle and click it was!

Jackie was christened The Grave Digger for one thing, when we were chatting around the pool at the end of the night, often fuelled by cocktails, she would inevitably dig up the past concerning her and Shuffle. It wouldn’t take much for shuffle to provoke the response of digging up a past event from Jackie. We tinkered with the idea of naming her The Archeologist but taking into account Jackie’s “Someone has just died” expression (Joke)  I thought the grave digger was more appropriate.

Now we come to my nickname, The Carer. So, Shuffle has been my best friend for many years, about 26 years, I think. Over the last few years, because of a chronic back and leg problem, his mobility has become more restricted. Through no fault of his own he doesn’t move very quickly and uses a walking stick most of the time. The grave digger helps him alot, and when we’re all together (Holidays, drinking sessions etc) I tend to walk alongside him, chatting about anything, ambling along together.

Around the pool, more often than not I helped him up out of his sun lounger, occasionally getting him food in the restaurant whilst he found a table for us. Grave digger and Mother hen both did their bit to make life easier for Shuffle.

As far as I’m concerned, shuffles mobility issues (Not normally funny) developed a comical twist when myself and shuffle went to a Turkish barber, who had a shop in the complex, for a cut-throat shave.

We strolled slowly into the barbershop and shuffle sat in the chair first. I remember the barber brandishing his razor and saying to Stu, in broken English “Don’t worry, I have magic hands “. I sat directly behind the ‘slaughter chair’ half expecting one of Stu’s ears to fall on the floor because Mr Barber didn’t actually have magic hands. I tried saying a couple of appropriately funny things about the demon barber of Fleet Street to Stu, but he didn’t hear me because he’s a little deaf, so I gave up.

So, as I sat there waiting, a woman came in and sat beside me, wanting to talk to the barber about having a tattoo. I recognised her because she always laid on the same sun lounger around the same pool. She would pass by often and chat about anything, she was obviously very friendly. She recognised me and leaned closer and with a hushed tone she said “Ahhh, that’s lovely, you’ve brought him for a shave”. Before I could respond, she added “How long have you been his carer”?

Recognising the opportunity, with a devilish glint in the eye, I looked at Shuffle and told her “Quite a while, but we’ve become good friends”. She looked at Shuffle and said something to him, but he was oblivious to her, because he couldn’t hear her, so she looked at me with a sad expression and said “Bless him, he’s enjoying his shave”. I told her that we were going to have a swim after his shave and she said ” You’re doing such a good job, you’re very patient and very good with him” talking to me like Stu wasn’t actually there. It made me chuckle. She briefly spoke to the barber as he finished Stu’s shave and raising her voice quite a few octaves thinking he was deaf and asked Stu if he’d enjoyed his shave! I can’t remember what Stu said in reply but I stifled a grin as I sat down for my shave.

That night during cocktails around the pool, I told Shuffle what the woman had said to me whilst he was having his shave. Mother hen and the grave digger saw the funny side and although Shuffle called me a “Twat” I think he saw the funny side to.

That’s it for part six. Until then.

Not working today so what am I doing? Saturday night in the house, a couple of beers and a game of scrabble!!!

I certainly know how to live 😂

The world is full of weird, wonderful, quirky, strange and flatulent people. Unfortunately, I was on holiday with three of them and, (Joke) as a sort of icing on a crazy cake, some of the other people who were holidaying at the same time as us fell into that category!!

I find myself spoilt for choice but I’ll recall some of them. There was a Welshman staying at the complex with his girlfriend who seemed like a lovely chap. At some time in his past he had nearly drowned at sea after a wave had dislocated his shoulder, and so had a fear of deep water and had also lost the confidence to swim. He was constantly laughing, smiling and always joking but could only find the courage to walk around in the pool, occasionally pushing his girlfriend around on a floating Ice cream or rubber ring.

There was also a guy from the northeast of England who was very loud and obviously thrived on being heard. He was a bubbly chap and sometimes quite funny, but, and this is a BIG but, he was the type of chap who would cause you to go to A&E for emergency ear surgery if you spent more than 10 minutes in his company (More about him later)

There was a middle aged woman who was holidaying because her family had ordered her to “Get away, forget things and relax “. I think it’s fair to say she wasn’t exactly the brightest bulb on the Christmas tree but she was straight talking and honest. (More about her during Bingo Gate)

The list is endless, but I will mention a few more later on.

So, back to pool shenanigans.

Stuart flashed his testicles once more. He had inadvertently put the same swim shorts on a couple of days after the first incident. He only realised he had worn the same ones when we went back to our apartment. But by then it was too late, the testicles had already been released yet again! I think some of the kids spotted them bobbing around like water mines but I didn’t say anything 😊 I thought he knew he’d put them back on😂😂

Angie (Mother hen) plucked up the courage to wear a bikini around the pool (Self conscious body issues) and Hens bravery appeared to have a knock-on effect because the following day, Jackie went to the shops to buy a bikini. She wore it around the pool and everybody else got an eyeful of her hairiest bits n bobs (Jokeeee) Speaking of baring all, mother hen became the unwitting victim of a little bit of Tom foolery. Whilst Stu and Jackie disappeared for a few hours up to the apartment one afternoon (Wink wink, the testicles were exercised methinks) myself and Hen went to the bar for a vodka and coke and relaxed on a sun lounger. As we chatted, the Welsh guy sneaked over and began to pull mother hens sun lounger towards the pools edge, causing one of our drinks to fall over as she panicked . Immediately, he went to the bar to replace them. Meanwhile, mother hen walked over to the poolside with the empty plastic beer cup to collect water to wash the vodka and coke away. The guy from the northeast (Ear protection at the ready) looked at me as Hen was stooping over the water and I gave a silent pushing motion. Prompt gleefully taken, he ran up behind her as she stood up quickly but toooooo late. She was thrown in!! The funny consequence was that her baps popped out when she hit the water, so like Stuart’s testicles, they said hello to the blue sky and floated free, released for all to see!!! She came spluttering to the surface, expletives pouring out of her mouth along with half of the pool (Bigggg mouth) (Jokeeee)

On a more serious note, Stuart nearly drowned in the pool (Not really) As I was pushing Hen around the pool on a blowup ice cream, we spotted Stuart swimming underwater, so Hen ordered me, in her most demanding, Hitler like, threatening voice, to push her over Stuart’s soon to resurface body. Out of fear, with trembling hands and knowing it was the wrong thing to do, I did as I was ordered!!!

He was instantly trapped under mother hens floating sun lounger, and fought for his life as Hen tried her evil best to prevent him from breathing the air he so desperately needed 😂😂 Actually, he spluttered a bit and accused me, Meeee!!! Of being the architect of his attempted murder!!! Preposterous I tell you, PREPOSTEROUS!!! Anyway, we had a laugh if nothing else.

Jackie was at first, a little bit reluctant to enter the water. Partly because it was a little bit to cold for her and partly because she’s a little bit taller than a dwarf 😂 So, she would sit by the side with her feet dangling in the water. All three of us encouraged her to take the plunge and jump in, reassuring her that after the first few seconds the water was comfortable and a welcome break from the searing heat of the sun. She was unwilling to just jump in so me and Stuart kindly helped her out by launching a load of cool water over her as she sat there screaming!! This left her with little choice but to jump in because she was drenched. So, in she jumped, and disappeared! She came to the surface, treading water. We asked her to put her feet on the bottom of the pool and stand up and she did. The water came to just below her nostrils when she was stood to her full height. Stuart was right, She really was a dwarf 😂

There’s a lot more to come in the next episode, including the reasons behind mine, Stuart’s and Jackie’s nicknames.

Until then.

To briefly continue the story of our recent holiday to Side, Turkey, I forgot to mention one incident in part 3. During our first day, Jackie proclaimed, as a matter of urgency, that she had forgotten to pack her medication for all of her ailments. (And there are many) Jokeeeeee) Jackie blamed Stuart because she had concentrated on making sure he had all of his medication, and in doing so, she had forgotten hers! (Your fault Stuart) She insisted that she couldn’t do without them for 8 days because if she did, then she would run the risk of  transforming into a dribbling, incoherent mess. No change there then! (Joke) As soon as Mother hen learnt of Jackie’s medical dilemma, Hen antennas stood to attention and she took charge, arranging with military precision a trip into the old town of Side to locate a pharmacist who could feed Jackie’s drug habit. (Joke) So, a taxi was called and we arrived at our destination after a short and very cheap priced 10 minute trip.

As soon as we stepped out of the taxi our feet rested on-top of perspex paving slabs that covered most of the small, winding streets and alleyways. Underneath the perspex, we had a perfect view of ancient Greek and Turkish ruins that were highlighted by carefully placed spotlights. I must admit, it was a strange experience walking above carefully excavated ancient ruins, but it looked amazing and was obviously a great tourist attraction. However, as I looked over my shoulder, Jackie was walking a little bit like Bambi on ice, carefully treading over the perspex, letting us all know she didn’t like it, obviously unnerved by the experience. Stuart also, was a little careful as we walked around looking for Jackie’s potential drug lord. We quickly found the pharmacist and Jackie disappeared through the door, reappearing very quickly with a bag full of goodies.

We then took a leisurely walk around the old town until we came across the harbour, which was full of boats for the tourists to hire. It was a beautiful scene as we strolled unhurried, past all the boats along the quayside until we saw Apollo’s Temple taking pride of place at the end of the harbour. I wanted to have a good look around the temple but because of Stuart’s problems with walking and Jackie’s trembling torso (Withdrawal symptoms I suspect) and the sudden attack of hungry mosquitoes, we decided to turn back and sit in a restaurant that gave us the best views of the sun setting over the sea.  So that was our visit into ‘Side’ on our first day. Personally, I would love to go back there and actually stay in the old town because it was beautiful place.

Part five (Coming soon)  will get into the meat and two veg of the holiday.

 

 

 

 

 

After we had all refreshed ourselves with the delicious beer on offer 🤢 (We didn’t drink much more of it, although we did try another one just in case our taste buds had fooled us) we made our way up the two flights of stairs (Stuart was so happy to be given the opportunity to test his climbing abilities: Thanks Mother Hen) The women squeezed into our skimpy swimming costumes, me in and Stu in shorts and off we went back down to the pool. Whilst myself and Stuart immediately  jumped into the crystal clear, inviting water, mother hen and Jackie went on a scouting mission to commandeer 4 sun loungers. Soon, after arranging the beach towels in sharp, military fashion, they joined us in the pool. However, we soon realised that we were in the wrong pool if we wanted (And we wanted) to visit the bar at regular intervals. So, we upped sticks again and walked around to the next pool, found our maximum sun soaking spot under the supervision of you know who, got 4 cold drinks of Vodka and coke, drank up and jumped in the pool, again!!

After we had cooled off in the water, we had a lazy afternoon around the pool, taking a cool dip when needed, reapplying sun cream on mother hens orders and jumped back in to wash it off !! During the afternoon, Stuart insisted that we needed to thank him for getting a better room!! If it wasn’t for him and his difficulties with walking, we would not have ended up in a better apartment with a balcony overlooking the pool! (We were literally a 10 second walk to the pool and bar) Couldn’t really argue with that, so thank god for physical disabilities!

So anyway, that first day of lazing around the pool was memorable for one thing, I saw Stuarts testicles. He was completely oblivious to the fact that his testicles had escaped from his swim shorts and were partaking in a little bit of front crawl all by themselves. Stuart only became aware when we retired up to the apartment to shower, get changed and go back down for dinner and more drinking. He laid down on his bed to remove his shorts, lifted his legs up so Jackie could help with their removal and Jackie noticed them poking out, saying hello. (I could see she was drooling)  She mentioned it to myself and Mother hen, so I had a quick glance and informed Stuart I had already noticed his testicles around the pool. Don’t really think he appreciated the fact I knew he had been flashing but didn’t inform him, but it tickled me.

So, to resume, after resting for an hour, we climbed back down the south face of Everest and went into dinner to discover that the dinner menu was almost identical to the breakfast menu, apart from a few other dishes, like roast beef (I think it was anyway) Could have been lamb, and some rice dishes! There were also a selection of cakes and deserts that were all the colours of the rainbow. Actually, apart from the instant diabetic instigator, they were quite palatable. A waiter came to the table with the drinks we had ordered and we took them with us after we had eaten and wandered outside to choose a table for the evenings events. We found an empty table that meant were sat about 3 feet from the pool and 12 feet from the bar. Lovely. As the sun went down, a multitude of lights came on under the water and gave the place a relaxed, comfortable feeling, it’s actually one of the things I miss. Every night we would try and sit near the waters edge just to enjoy the scene. At the start of every evenings entertainment, the D.J. would play a selection of music and then a kids disco would unravel. I think the only thing about that disco was the woman who led the dance, who was very, very, very, veryyyyyyy hot. (Well, Stuart told me she was anyway!) To be fair to her, she must have been very bored because, well,  she looked very bored. We discussed her role at the complex over drinks and all agreed that a person can only do the same thing a few times before boredom kicks in, so god knows how many times she must have gone through the same routine with different children over the summer. However, we (Me and Stuart) were extremely happy she was sticking with it! The kids who took part, ranged from the ages of about 3 or 4 up to about 8 or 9 (I think) They were very enthusiastic, especially the boys who couldn’t take their eyes of their dance teacher. Over the course of the 8 nights we were there, Stuart did a bloody good job of learning the dance moves, and sometimes, when the mood took him, treated us to the dance moves during the day whilst we were in the pool. The one thing Stuart didn’t take part in was the water gym. Myself, Jackie and mother hen had a laugh doing it.

It turned out that the night time D.J. was also the daytime D.J, the water gym instructor, the water polo instructor, the life guard on the water slides and the bingo caller (More of Bingo Gate in the next episode) Actually, he was very good at what he did and was quite entertaining. The way he spoke over the microphone was very typical of how a Turkish entertainments manager would probably have been portrayed in a TV comedy serial in the 70s, before the do-gooding, politically correct people got their claws into how society should act. When he used the microphone, every sentence he used was finished off with an “Ah” at the end of his last word! For instance, he would say “Five minutes before water polo-ah” or “Gym-ah in five minutes-ah”, which made me smile and gave everything he said a touch of authenticity. Or was he purposefully giving the holiday makers a little bit of “Hi-de-hi?”. Who knows but he was a lovely chap.

Before I end this episode, I feel like I should mention one particular little girl who stole Stuarts heart. She was a tiny little thing, and whatever she did, she never gave up. This included trying to climb out of the kiddies pool and never giving up until she succeeded. I think Stuart liked her “Bulldog spirit” of never giving up. Anyway, he looked for her every day to watch her antics and actually said that even though he wasn’t fond of kids that he would like to buy her! (Alarm bells ringingggggggg) Only joking Stu. Anyway, that’s it for now. There’s a lot more to come, but until then.

4th episode coming soon.

When we collected our baggage at the airport,  found the coach that would transfer us to the holiday complex and settled into our seats for the final part of our very, very long  journey. At some point, whilst we were on the coach, Stu stood up and head-butted the baggage hold above his seat, again!! So he now had three round pieces of skin missing from the top of his head !! But he didn’t complain, he just accepted it, shrugged it off and carried on in true British bulldog fashion.

We finally arrived and two staff members came to the coach and took charge of our suitcases. We followed them to the reception area at a reluctantly urgent pace (They were in a hurry, we were not) Stuart needed to sit down (He was tired, we were all tired) before he fell down, so a rather large woman conjured up a chair from somewhere and virtually forced him to sit. As he lowered himself onto the chair, the top of his mangled head revealed itself to her gaze. The look on her face was hilarious. Her mouth opened wide, like she had just been witness to a mass beheading, her eyes bulged so much they nearly touched his head and she ran silently, like the wind, her ample chest bounced in time with her buttocks. By the time she arrived back, armed with a few tissues, my wife, Angie (Mother Hen) had already moved swiftly like a commando, with a tissue of her own to stem the flow of squirting blood. (It was only two round grazes)

The receptionist handed the apartment key to a member of staff and he, along with his female colleague moved like a rabbits, expecting us to keep up with them. (Which we didn’t) We arrived at the door of our apartment and they ushered us in. It was extremely big, as big as a small two bedroom house, with a winding staircase that led up to 2 bedrooms and a bathroom. Downstairs, there was a big living area with a small kitchen and a shower room to the side of the front door. On the coffee table there was 4 glasses of water, some bread that had seen better days, with a couple of plates of ham (I think) and cheese (I think)

The staff left us to our own devices and Angie climbed the stairs, which is when she proclaimed, like Mussolini on crack “These stairs are far to dangerous for you Stuart, we’ll have to move apartments in the morning”. After agreeing with mother hen, we all climbed ‘Mount Everest’ to take a look at the bedrooms. Stuart and Jackie chose their room so we were left with the other one. The problem was that our room had no air conditioning, and everyone was sweating like cows in an a slaughterhouse.  Mother hen decided, on behalf of everyone, that we would ask to change rooms when we woke-up in the morning (In about 4 hours) Myself and mother hen slept on the two couches downstairs because the heat was stifling in the bedroom, leaving Stuart and Jackie to fart to their hearts content in the comfort of their air conditioned room. It has to be said that Stuart is a world class producer of wind, and Jackie isn’t far behind him. His flatulence is so loud and long that I was surprised the neighbours didn’t complain!!

We woke up a few hours later ‘Refreshed’ and ready to start the first day of our holiday. After breakfast we sat by the side of the pool drinking orange juice, or something that resembled orange juice. Then, it was time for mother hen to assume command and sprung into a determined strut, followed by Jackie to the reception to ask for a change of apartment. Five minutes later they came back and said we had been offered another one, they had viewed it and made the executive decision to move into it asap.

Stuart, because of his problems with walking and carrying, couldn’t take part in the great moving house operation, we didn’t and wouldn’t have expected it. So, in true gestapo fashion, we followed mother hen to our apartment, collected our cases and migrated to a different block of apartments. Passing the pool, we saw Stuart relaxing in a chair, casually sipping orange juice as we left a trail of sweat behind us. Whilst mother hen went to swap keys, Myself and Jackie lugged our cases up two flights of stairs. I took 5, Jackie took the other one. (After carrying the first two cases up the first flight of stairs I thought to myself “Why the f*&k are we doing this?!!)  I left the women to unpack the cases after receiving instructions from mother hen to go and re-join Stuart. Whilst I was sat with Stuart, Mother hen and Jackie appeared on the balcony of our new apartment and waved, so I in turn waved and pointed them out to Stuart, who looked at them, looked at me and said “Shall we sample the beer”? When the women rejoined us they each had a cold beer (Questionable) waiting for them. It was now time to start our holiday in earnest.

To be continued.

So, before I  begin the story of our recent holiday to Side in Turkey, I am going to give you a clue as to the theme of our adventure. (It has little to do with the title) There exists a famous line from one of Shakespeare’s great plays, The Twelfth Night.

“Be not afraid of greatness. Some are born great,

some achieve greatness, and some have greatness

Thrust upon them”.

My take on these great words is “Be not afraid of becoming a carer. Some are born carers, some develop the ability to become carers and some have the title of carer thrust upon them”. (I come somewhere in the “Thrust upon” description)

On the day of our departure, we, all four of us (Me, The Carer, Stu, Shuffle and Click, Jackie, The Grave Digger and Angie, Mother Hen) left Chesterfield train station with baggage in tow, bound for the city of Sheffield. (The nicknames will become apparent later in the story) Once in Sheffield, we humped our baggage from the train to the pub attached to the station and settled down for the first of many alcoholic drinks during our holiday. (Actually, myself and Angie struggled with most of the luggage between us because Stu has a disability that prevents him from recognising a suitcase, and Jackie is old and frail)  (Jokeeeeeee) Anyway, to cut a long story short, we boarded the train bound for Manchester airport after daring to drink one of their bloody awful pints of overpriced beer and arrived in good spirits an hour and twenty minutes later at the airport.

After checking in and waiting for the boarding gates to open, we settled into our seats and awaited take-off. The only thing was, myself, Angie and Jackie were all seated together with Stuart seated directly behind us in the isle seat. We hadn’t been in the air for long when Romeo and Juliet, the two people sat next to Stuart, started annoying him. Before I get into it, it has to be said that Stuart is reminiscent of Victor Meldrew (One Foot In The Grave)  Very dry and funny with it,  always commenting about the state of the planet, especially the idiots who live on it. (The world’s gone nuts) type of bloke. His travel partners (Romeo and Juliet) were definitely the type of people who made his piss boil. The air stewardess came around with a trolley and upon stopping at the side of Stuart, asked if he and they wanted food or drinks. R & J piped up immediately, asking for champagne. The stewardess asked if it was a special occasion and Romeo said something like “Because we love each other”. They then proceeded to drink several bottles of champers, slowly getting pissed as we made our way over mainland Europe. Of course, drinking so much alcohol  automatically means several trips to the toilet, which meant continually asking Stuart to move from his seat so they could pass him. On two of those occasions when he had to stand up, he bumped his follically challenged head on the overhead luggage compartments. I swear to God and Allah that R & J didn’t stop talking during the entire four and a half hour journey. At one point Juliet knocked her champers over. I only realised she had spilt it because I suddenly felt the bottom of my back and the back of my jeans become very wet. For a split second I thought the good Lord had suddenly seen fit to play a joke and strike me incontinent! Juliet apologised. I accepted.

During the flight, the four of us passed a bag of mint imperials between us. When Stuart got his hands on the bag, he tipped it up a little too far and about half of the contents landed in his hands, some of which fell on the floor. I had a quiet chuckle and then forgot about it until the air hostess walked past, looked down and saw what looked like cocaine strewn across the floor. Stuart had inadvertently crushed them with his shoes. She said “Who’s been using white”? I wasn’t entirely convinced that she was joking but I must admit her words tickled me.

We eventually landed at Antalya Airport at around 00.30, exhausted from travelling with ears that were virtually bleeding from the incessant chatter of Romeo and Juliet. When we disembarked and waited for out baggage, Stuart mentioned that Juliet was a gold digger and that she would bleed Romeo dry, which is when we noticed that Stuart had sustained two battle wounds from headbutting the overhead compartment. Where skin should have been, there was now two round patches of raw skin. He really was an old soldier, with battle wounds to prove it.

Instalment number 2 coming soon.