Some facts about sand

I’ve learnt two new things about sand since being in Spain. One is that it gets bloody hot. Like really silly burn your feet hot. The second is that sometimes there are ruddy great rocks in it. Especially at the bit where the sand meets the sea and you can’t really see any of those rocks so you stub your now burnt feet on them and hurt it even more. I knew these facts about sand before, but had clearly forgotten them from my last sand experience and as a consequence have to spend the next few days hobbling like a horse on marbles. This is combined with the sides of my eyes being all scratched by a combination of sea salt and sun cream, an evil duo that work together to make your face feel as though its made of gravel. Apart from these and finally getting sunburn on the little bits where my arms join my torso, I love being on the beach. I love fighting for sunbeds that aren’t as far away from the sea as possible and paying five euros just so some bloke can give us sunbed matresses that after 2 minutes in the sun become burny cushions of hotness. I love the way that sand manages to get absolutely everywhere, even in places that haven’t been anywhere near the sand. Like my notepad that’s still in the bag I packed it in. Now complete with a few grains of sand. Bloody stupid sand. Think I’ll stay by the pool today.

It was actually another lovely day yesterday, just blisteringly hot. Not that I got blisters. Just cuts and burns. After our morning on the beach, me and Layla went to Marbella town for a bit of a walk and dinner. Its a nice place but once again the Old Town trumps the New Town. I find this is often the case and makes me wonder why anyone would bother building the new bit. They spend ages with design and construction only for everyone to confirm its not as good as the original. Unless they only build the new one in order for people to appreciate the old one. Before the new one arrives everyone probably complains about how the Ancient Town was the best even though it just consisted of three huts and a dead donkey. The Marbella Old Town had some cool places in it including a whole shop for somebreros. I mean a shop that sold sombreros not one that catered for the needs of somebreros. However I feel this is missing. It would be nice if there was a safe haven for sombreros to visit when they feel they have been mispurchased by some English twat who only ever wears it on stag dos. There were also some lovely little churches and an art museum that was being renovated so they let us see the still open bits for free. At least we think thats what they said and may well have just been rude and walked in without paying.

I always feel its necessary to see some culture on holiday even if its only about 20 paintings in a building thats only half built. I didn’t understand what any of them were about but I liked one with hats on it and one with shoes on it and one thats was bits of white and bits of black all jaggedy. I didn’t like one with skulls and eyes on it that was probably done with paint or maybe not. It is this incredible knowledge and constructive criticism that makes me think I should definitely host art shows. After the culture we had dinner in a place called De Bruno that is probably owned by Frank Bruno or Sasha Baron Cohen, probably. They sold some bloody amazing food and had a nice meal just the two of us, while observing some weird old ladies who had too much botox and consequently looked like supervillians, a man that we called Pee Wee German (he looked like Pee Wee Herman but spoke in Deutsch), and some girls from Liverpool who collectively were wearing all the make up.

Its my last full day here today, as I’m flying back tomorrow night. This means today must be spent indulging in all the things I’ve got very good at these last few days. Sitting, eating, sunbathing, eating and eating. When I head to the airport tomorrow night I’m slightly scared I’ll be too heavy for the cabin and have to go in with the luggage.