So, I did the stupidest thing you could imagine.
More accurately, I didn’t bring my swimsuits with me to Mallorca, after all that fuss shopping for a bikini, leading to the craziest purchase of my life — FOUR pairs of bikinis.
It’s crazy because I don’t even like wearing swimsuits to begin with, never mind bikinis, because, to grossly understate it, I don’t look so hot in them.
Of course, what’s more crazy is that, after all that, I am now lounging on the island of my two-week resort holiday while my new bikinis are lounging in my wardrobe in Bournemouth.
I would say this is the biggest loser story of my life but I think it’s more likely a sign. Swimsuits and bikinis are not for me.
In case you’re interested, I didn’t bring them because my wardrobe had run out of space so I had stored them in Piers’ wardrobe. They’d been sitting there untouched for about three weeks, waiting for the big day.
Except when the big day arrived, I forgot I even had stuff in Piers’ wardrobe. Since my mind has never been geared towards bikinis and beaches, it remained that way during the three hours it took me to pack.
Oh well, there is always next year, if the bikinis don’t get eaten by moths by then.
In other news, wifi is not free in this hotel (Melia Palas Atenea – Palma de Mallorca) so I have painstakingly typed all this on my Blackberry and will post it via UK data roaming, which I suspect might be free cos it was in Paris. That’s how I’ve been tweeting anyway.
Will pay exhorbitant wifi charges soon so I can do a proper post with pictures and everything.