Chapter 34 - Singles Holiday or Cattle Market?

A mobbed London Gatwick on a Bank Holiday Monday wasn´t a great start, especially when every tall man wearing faded jeans reminded me of Adrian. Ade, I mean. MUST call him by his ´´proper´´ name, now that I know it! I tried to lose myself in Marie Claire on the flight but it was as blatant as a Joan Rivers facial who was going to the same resort as me. A posse of sombrero`d hippie-chicks from Leeds were already sparking off a crowd of guys from Kent - all with similarly ´different´celtic tattoos.
Thankfully, on arrival, my hotel is nice and the welcome party isn´t until tomorrow, so I can´t wait to snatch my key and retreat to my room. It takes me all of 2 minutes to strip off, slather on some Factor 20 and slip into my red bikini. Poolside entertainment looks promising and my dark shades let me have a good look around without looking nosey!
As far as a singles holiday goes, it seems that there are crowds of singles here rather than singletons, as in I´m-On-My-Own-And-Single.
Looks like I´m going to be alone.
Again!

Fancy a postcard? Just send me your postal address to singlesophieregan@yahoo.co.uk (and thanks to everyone who has asked for one so far!! My postcard address list is embarrassingly short, so far consisting of Tamsin, Mum, Jennifer, Delaney and, oh, CAN´T forget to send one to those gross guys at Geezer.....