Sitting on the balcony of our hotel room I am trying to remember what day it is and for once it’s not an age thing but the fact that in two days we have had approximately eight hours sleep. Amazingly I feel remarkably perky for an old bird.
I have to admit that as we got on our Thomson flight I had my reservations as we seem to have somehow stumbled on to a saga trip. A Ryan Air flight to the party island it definitely was not and as the queue for those requiring special assistance shuffled forward I began to wonder if I had read my brochure properly. Disturbingly we were all on the same transfer bus. Maybe my choice of a child free hotel had been a horrible mistake.
However, despite the fact that the patrons of The Hotel Panorama in Es Cana appear to have an average age of seventy and as a result Amelia has raised concerns about possible contamination of the swimming pool, the hotel has suited us perfectly. The food is a bit ropy, more coach trip than Jamie Oliver but as we keep arriving late or miss the food slots entirely it is difficult to pass judgement. The rooms are clean and functional, the pool is large, relaxing and importantly child free and the staff are friendly and courteous, (even when Ali managed to blow a fuse with her ironing) and quite honestly it must be difficult to remain polite when faced with a relentless onslaught of elderly Brits. And there is an upside.The cocktails are surprisingly potent on the all inclusive and we’ve convinced ourselves that we’re keeping up with our five a day intake. We also look like supermodels around the swimming pool.
Hotel Panorama is also conveniently located opposite Charlie’s Bar which with its fabulous cocktails, tribute bands and a late late dj is already offering up a smorgasbord of characters, gossip and harmless goings on worthy of an episode of Towie. Hotel Panorama was a-twitching this morning amongst those in the know and I have no doubt that somebody’s husband, now affectionately known as Mr Sin Bin, was well and truly in the shit. I could, if I wanted to, have a field day but that wouldn’t be fair. Ibiza is obviously a place for letting your hair down and escaping the humdrum of the daily grind, letting those of us who are banned from dancing in public at home giving it large on the dance floor. There must be honour amongst thieves and hopefully my performance to the title song will never appear on You Tube!