Three Men In a Boat...

Storm Brendan was closing in. It’s 3.30am, I’m picking Pat McMahon and Dave Irving up before heading off to East Midlands Airport. Pat comes out coughing and spluttering with the virus he’s been trying to shake off since before Christmas. ‘Few days in the sun will sort you out” I tell him. Feeling frazzled myself at this unearthly hour we head off to pick Dave up, and he shatters the tranquility with a bellowing ‘Morning Pat! Morning Clive!’ Jesus, ‘It’s Storm David!’ I’m thinking. Is this a sign of things to come? Pat has a look on his coupon that tells me he knows Dave of old. Of course he does. Friends and fellow comrades in the DJ, Disco and Radio business for over 40 years. Both could talk the hind legs off a donkey so I’m looking forward to some banter this week! Greetings exchanged, we make our way to the M1 and the first leg of our destination of  Algorfa on the Costa Blanca.

Originally I was going on my own. I had mentioned over a pint or two with Pat my desire to get away for a week in January and Pat graciously offered me his pad in Spain. A few pints later he decides he too fancies a bit of sunshine and so suddenly there was two of us. Next came Dave, who following an evening with Pat and Yvonne, and his wife Shirley, also joined the gang.  So, gone was my idea of a quiet peaceful week, relaxing with a book, contemplation. But what the hell, it’s more the merrier!! 

The Met Office had been warning everyone in the UK about the impending Storm Brendan and we felt the full brunt of Bren as we tore up the motorway. Torrential rain lashed down. We made East Midlands airport in plenty of time all the same, arriving at 5am, two hours ahead of departure. Car parked up, through the security, chirping away full of excitement, we grab some breakfast… and then Dave looks at us, aghast, his face one of horror, disbelief. “Where’s my phone?” he blurts out in a state of panic. Sifting through his pockets, his bag, he looks at us despairingly, “my cards are in the wallet with my phone too! I must have left them in the car!” “What am I goin’ to do!”

“Don’t panic first of all” I say, “look, here’s my car keys, car reg, you know where we parked, go to the security, tell them what’s happened and I’m sure they’ll let you go back out. Might have to go through the whole rigmarole of getting back in again.. but don’t panic! ” “I bet there’s been loads of dickheads who’ve done the same!”  

“My appetite has disappeared” Dave wails. 

“Get going!!”

Half hour later he’s back, his relief is palpable. ‘There you go” Pat and I say smugly. Crisis is over. Right, relax! 

“Another coffee?”  

“Can’t beat a bit of drama to start the day!” says Pat.

I have a feeling there was going be a few more dramas this week. 

Because of the haphazard way this all came about, we were all seated separately on the plane. My companions were a middle aged Birmingham couple. Now not being funny but that Brum accent grates me. I’m not at my best first thing as it is and I do like my own space.  No sooner had I settled in my seat and Mr Brum is asking me jovially, “You going to Rome too?” Hilarious, not. Trying to be convivial I answer, ‘shit! I’d better get off!’ Not exactly a humdinger of a retort but enough to make Brum chortle loudly. Mistake. He thus tries to engage me in some inane patter, cracking jokes, which has Mrs Brum rolling in mirth. That’s enough I thought. Can’t be doing with this. I closed my eyes, and ears..and that was that. The Brums got the message, ordered a gin and tonic, and settled down for the two hour flight..and left me in peace. 

Dave’s journey was more frenetic. Seated at the back of the plane next to a chap who suffered with the complaint, Tourettes Syndrome. “Every second word was ‘f—- me, f—- this.., f— that’ and he never shut up the whole journey!” Dave laughed, “it was funny though. Even if a woman sitting the other side of me looked on in disgust.” 

Pat’s trip was relatively reposeful. He slept all the way!

Arriving at Alicante I made my way through the customs, passport control and waited for Pat and Dave to show. Being at the head of the queue I couldn’t see no reason for hanging about waiting for them to catch up. Pat eventually shows up and is worried that Dave will probably get lost. “We’d better move down to the passport gate and wait for him. He’ll panic.” He of little faith! Dave arrives with that non-plussed look I’ll get accustomed to. No worries. 

Pat has arranged for us to be picked up by his friend Ali, a Tunisian taxi driver. Big smiles, hugs and Ali takes us off to Algorfa and Pat’s apartment, leaving us his car for the week. It’s still only around 11am, the sun is welcoming, the scenery splendid and we are all quite excited. Pat is keen to show us his flat which he and Yvonne have had for over ten years and first impression was, ‘it looks great’. Then we discover the water had been turned off! No running water!  Pat is flummoxed, angry. ”I thought I’d sorted this out! I phoned the utility companies last week, phoned the bank, paid the bills!” .. “’effin wankers!”. “Well at least the electricity is working” Dave said sympathetically, trying the switch. 

So we had some light, but unfortunately, no TV. Switching the set on, there was only one channel working. The Film Four Channel. “F—- me” Pat moans, “the remote is knackered.” New batteries are tried. No luck, no change. Can’t even turn the channel over manually. Pat looks exasperated. “Gonna change this tele, it’s effin’ shite! Sorry.” 

“We didn’t come all this way to watch the box anyway Pat” I offer. Dave,  oblivious with cigarette in hand, looks on with indifference.

“I’ll have to get down town first thing tomorrow, sort this shit out, I was on the phone only last week..” Pat has a habit of repeating himself.

“Don’t worry about it, it’s not the end of the world, worse things happen at sea..” we try to placate Pat, clearly distraught and embarrassed.

“Right, we can’t stay here.. I’ll phone Mick and Lorraine to let them know the situation.”

Mick and Lorraine it turns out, are Pat and Yvonne’s neighbours in Weldon who also, conveniently, have a home a couple of miles from them in Algorfa. Lorraine is also Dave’s sister in law. Well it couldn’t have been handier really. Explaining the trauma, which Dave and I were less concerned about, ‘don’t worry Pat’ we kept telling him, Mick and Lorraine insisted we could stay at their place, a huge house up in the hills, and also share a roast dinner with them! Well, that was unexpected but what a delight! Ali and his partner Rachel were there also. So ensued a wonderful afternoon, and night. A lovely Sunday dinner, lots of wine, and beer, laughter, swapping stories. Lorraine’s mum and dad, Joy and Malcolm Anderson were big friends from way back with Sue’s mum and dad, Peggy and Sam. Malcolm and Sam used to go sea fishing in Torquay with their other pal from Golden Wonder in the 1960s, a gentle giant called Big Joe. A massive guy I remember too. Must have been not far short of 30 stone. A real character. The Andersons are also neighbours and close friends with my brother Alan and family in Corby. Small world! There was no shortage of conversation!

Pat and Yvonne's Spanish abode

So came to and end an unusual and unexpected start to our sojourn in Spain. Mick and Lorraine were amazing hosts. We eventually retired at around 2am, stuffed and knackered! Me and Dave in one room, and Pat, still coughing - he told us he’d very nearly called his trip off the Friday before we came out - in a separate room on his own. Which was rather thoughtful of him. 

Reckon we all slept like logs! Apart from Pat maybe..