A couple of weeks back, Himself was 79, and he has the idea fixed in his head that each birthday is likely to be his last, so he wants to do something different, even though it's not a 'landmark. We decided to go to Benidorm with friends for a 4 day all inclusive break. We've used the hotel before, and we know the food and the entertainment is good, so it seemed like a plan. There were dancing girls on Friday, so if the Birthday Boy did expire from all the excitement, at least he'd have gone with a smile on his face.
We thought we were fortunate to share the hotel with two coach parties of Spanish pensioners. They may have been even older than my Tony, but they were full of life, and singing, dancing and drinking into the small hours. I've never been pulled up into so many congas in such a short space of time, and a group of ladies from Andalucia decided to teach me the finer points of flamenco. They really made the holiday for us, but not all the Brits in the hotel were of the same mind, and it made for some rather ugly moments.
The compere was brilliant - he was a young guy called Luis, and he did everything in Spanish and English. He even did the announcements in German, for a couple of families, and he had a stab at Swedish as well. One announcement was obviously for one of the coach parties, because they were talking about arrangements for the morning, but one of the British contingent complained loudly that they were 'talking behind our backs, so say what you've got to say in English.' Luis explained that it was purely an arrangement for a small number of Spanish people, so it was not necessary to translate. Cue lots of muttering along the lines of 'We're here on holiday, we expect to be told what's going on.'
On the second night, the pensioners put on some extra entertainment. One of their number was a keyboard player with a great voice - even though he must have been at least 80 - and he serenaded us for an hour with Spanish songs of different tempos, so we could all get up and dance. Again, there were complaints of 'Why doesn't he sing in English,' even though a lot of the songs were Spanish versions of international hits.
On our last night, when Luis announced the entertainment for the following evening and said that it would be an English singer, the Flip Flop and Chips Brigade - which was what we'd christened them - started clapping and cheering. Heaven knows what those Spanish pensionistas must have thought. We felt obliged to apologise on behalf of our countrymen, although we thoroughly enjoyed the non-stop partying that happened as soon as the coach parties came in after dinner.
Everyone had smiles on their faces - except for the small Brit contingent that were causing all the trouble. It made me ashamed to be British - and not for the first time. The entertainment was first class, the food was plentiful, and geared towards all tastes, yet these people seemed determined to find fault, and expected everything to be conducted for their benefit. It's not often I'm speechless, but I came pretty close during that break.
