Journey through space to the Planet Fabulous, where the Ruler of the Universe will see you shortly.

Monday, July 14, 2008

Sitges, Part III

Before the holiday, I was in quite an intense training program.

Not the gym, but booze.

You see, my traveling companions are somewhat seasoned drinkers, often 'on the green' first thing in the morning, much to my envy. I won't say they were pessimists, but their glasses were almost always empty - often with a musing "Oh, doesn't it sparkle when its empty?" from the Lady Vyse, holding his vacant glass aloft for all to witness; a cry for some functionary to come fill his vessel poste haste.

For all my talk on here, I've never been that good at downing the booze - well, not at a sustained level that is. So before I came away, I took great pains to have a couple of glasses of splishy-splashy every night before bed, varying the content so my stomach wouldn't quite know what was going in. This is, I find, a fair preparation for any adventure with Lady Vyse and a cocktail menu. He's like the drinker's Stanislavsky - 'There are no small drinks, only small measures'. Coupled with this were the holiday's organizers: the incomparable traveling companions Stuey and Robbie, both old hands at the bar. Though when they weren't drinking they tended to be half asleep watching 'Frontier in Space' in their suite. Yes suite. Their sofa was bigger than my bed, I tells you. 'Frontier' came with us because I just grabbed a load of DVDs from beside my bed when I was packing - my copy of the appalling 'Doctor Who' story 'The Sensorites' is also now an overseas traveler. I gave this a go while I was there while I recovered from my sunburn, and hooted all the way through. Part one has the crew of the ship talking about their previous adventures; someone mentions the harrowing antics in 'The Aztecs' and quick as you like, Babs just goes "Oh I´m over all that!" rather glibly. Part two, fey companion Susan has to think of three words. And promptly faints. That´s the sort of girl she is. I can´t wait for the next part - I hope we get to see the Sense Sphere. As the Sensorites themselves walk around like they´re carrying invisible clutchbags and keep looking at each other as if to say¨"Yes well, my Janine got into the bake sale this year" I´m imagining the planet to have an awful lot of antimacassars. The Sensorites are like a pride of elderly aunts, if you ask me.

Anyway, I digress. As you can imagine, the whole week turned out to be a drunken debacle, with many, many incidents of having to help each up the hill to our hotel. And Friday was to be our last big blow out, the drinking of champions! We were to drain the pumps dry, being so bladdered that we ran the risk of being turned away from the airport. I don't know why they worry about this - when I'm drunk, I just go a bit giggly (well, a lot) then fall asleep. They were probably afraid that the recycling of the air on the plane would pass my 90% proof breath onto the BA stewardesses and get them tipsy. Can you imagine? They may actually crack a smile that reached their dead, dead eyes.

But this drinking was not to be! My erstwhile companions cried off... oh, sure they blamed the seafood from the previous night, but I think it was just the inability to keep up with my Herculean drinking. I was the new queen of Sitges! I am drunk, hear me pour!

And so I staggered up the hill one last time, the last one (just about) standing. Ah, my first gay holiday. Completely not what I was expecting when I booked it, but brilliant fun while I was there. And so, I stood on the top of the bay, looking out over the town, the church and the sea.

I bowed slightly. Thank you and good night.

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