As the plane glided over the rolling countryside, I looked out the window and saw the gold lights pouring over the landscape like a sparkling lava slowly setting into the hills. After a week spent boozing it up on the sun bleached island of Zante with five of the finest gentlemen anyone could have a bevvy with. The days were scorching, the nights were drunken but a great week was had by all.
The, some would say excessive, consumption of alcohol was all part of the fun and frolics of a lads holiday on the azure shore of Greece. The whole bravado of outdoing each other in the hangover stakes was made harder by the relentless heat. We stayed out in the sun trying to be laddish, in the end some of us are red like a radish.
So what if I can't remember most of the first night's events? So what that apparently its all fine and dandy to let six lads hire and drive a boat without a license? So what if seven nights on the guzzle in a row causes internal damage? We are literally young, wild and free. I have no regrets of any aspect of the trip. Returning home to England and remembering that I was still an unemployed student from a backwater town did bring me back down with a bit of a bump but the memories of Laganas will be there forever and ever. How very cute.
The paint party was messy, the music was loud, the boat was fantastic. To use a, now well-quoted, phrase: I'm sure that some of you stuck in grey old Grimsby were, indeed, wibble wobble jealous on a plate.