LIFE

Doing time. In Lanzarote

So, thanks to the fact that someone has decided the UK is now a year-round winter destination, last weekend my friend Amy and I decided to bugger off somewhere where it was guaranteed to be a) hot and b) cheap.

We put our requirements into Google, and out came the answer: Lanzarote. We duly booked three nights, all inclusive, at what was meant to be a FOUR star resort. OK, so we were stupid and naive – the whole holiday was under £350. Yes, that’s three nights with all food and drink included, plus flights. We got what we deserved, penny-pinching tightwads that we were.

We turned up at our hotel, which was basically a goliath compound of ridiculous proportions, and the first thing the (fearsome) ladies behind reception did was tag us, like criminals, with a very blue, very plastic wrist band. The only way to take the wrist bands off was to cut them. There were also gold ones and yellow ones behind the counter – we deduced the yellow were for young offenders, the gold for lifers. I (rebellious) cut my wrist band off at the end of the first day. Amy (compliant and fearful of authority) spent the holiday fretting about tan lines. We were then allocated a room in Block H.

Yes, we were tagged and put into (cell) block H. So, when does a hotel resort start to feel like a prison?

Possibly when the corridors look like this:

Or maybe when the view from the rooms is this:

Here are some of the things we learnt from our experience in Lanzarote anyway.

• The landscape is…interesting. Sort of post-apocalyptic. Doesn’t really do it for me.

• If you and a female friend wear matching visors on holiday, people will think you’re American lesbians.

• Amy likes Spanish supermarkets a lot. A bottle of Beefeater gin was £4.50. These two facts may be related.

• The Spanish have hijacked Italian food. Badly.

• All-inclusive hotels are basically cruise ships without the only good bit: the stop-offs.

• We do not belong in All Inclusive resorts (yet) because we are childless and haven’t gone through the menopause. Oh, and we aren’t cats.

• When confronted with jelly adorned with squirty cream and chopped nuts, middle-aged men lose all sense of reason.

• One of Easyjet’s pilots, Phil Shaw, is a frustrated stand-up comedian. Check out the video…

Here are some other shots from our time inside, anyway. Twas an experience, at the very least. I’m just grateful to my lovely cell mate for helping me get through it.

 

 

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Charlotte Duckworth
I'm Charlotte Duckworth, an interiors and lifestyle editor, consultant and general digital media nerd. This is my personal blog, about new motherhood, life and interiors.
Charlotte Duckworth

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