My last weekend in Bournemouth was jam packed with laughter, despite EBF not being there. She had to go to her Gran’s for the weekend and maintain favourite status. So instead, I hung out with her friends.
It was Macaulay Caulkin Day on the Friday, because he happened to be in Bournemouth playing in his band. I didn’t go and see the spectacle because I couldn’t get the picture of Kevin screaming with a pompom topped beanie, out of my head. I also ate lunch near a man wearing a monocle and had expensive ice cream with EBF; that didn’t really need to be that pricey, although it did taste like real cream. It was an interesting day, a cream of Caulkin day.
That evening I got dropped off by EBF to have dinner with EBF’s BFF, EBFBFF, and their friend EBF&EBFBFF-F. Not only did EBFBFF cook the most amazing cheesy pastry dish that I couldn’t stop eating while we over-analysed one of those ‘I’m not really investing my mind in this movie’ movies, but I did end up losing the plot and foetal on the floor in a fit of laughter.
Picture this scene: Friday night and the doorbell rings with a young grocery delivery man standing there. The goods are delivered to the kitchen. I sneak past in the background and pull the security latch across, locked. EBFFBFF and I are hidden in the lounge, silent laughing. Delivery guy tries to leave.
“Oh! My friends must’ve taken a liking to you”, came with nervous laughter from EBF&EBFBFF-F.
But because we weren’t seen in the first place, it looked like she was at home, alone.
And then Kooky Hour began; shrieks, whoops and rolling on the floor, holding my guts in to keep them from falling out. That really was the entrée of laughing, for the weekend. The main course really was a superb treat.
After agonising over my tax return (I am mathematically impaired), and completing the effer, I went for a beach picnic with EBFBFF, EBFBFF’s ma, Alfie the excitable dog, and his hung-over owner.
It was a gloriously sunny day with a let’s step into summer temperature. Alfie had stretched across me and his owner in the back seat, stoked for the attention in between putting his nose to the gap in the window. At the beach, he was let loose to roam. We found a nice spot to settle, while the blankets and food were spread. Ma was just about to take her first bite, when a lifeguard told us that happy Alfie biting at the waves had to frolic elsewhere just down ‘there’, because we were not in the dog specified area.
Just down ‘there’ was awkward to get to with a packed unpacked packed picnic. It was also awkward because as EBFBFF and I were ahead chatting, we’d stopped to wait for Ma, Alfie and Hung-owner. They were hunched over an ice cream stand sign and Alfie was running in big circles. Alfie had done explosive diarrhoea all over the ice cream stand sign; in front of the ice cream stand with its less understanding ice cream scooper, in front of a park bench of ice cream lickers. Ma was trying to hose down the brown dog liquid with her water bottle, Hung-owner was hiding behind his shades and trying to wipe the sign clean, and EBFBFF and I… well, we were off in the distance, doubled-over, resigned to the fact that we were incapable of hootin’ ‘n helpin’… or breathing.
I like Alfie. He’s like the toddler you’re having fun playing games with, until they crap themselves and you can give them back.
Dinner came with wine induced hysterics while we were barbequing meat, meat and more meat, at another beach. To a passer-by, cheese squares on foreheads might look ridiculous; to us, it was snort-worthy entertainment.
Sunday came with one of those ‘but I only had three glasses of wine’ hang-overs. So that had to be cured with pancakes, walking, and ice creams at the beach where there happened to be a red and white striped Punch and Judy theatre set up. Curious, I walked in closer and watched the kids laughing to storylines about cannibalism and walloping. I backed away. It was a bit too weird, even for me.
EBF returned and we spent the evening walking along the pier, not wanting it to end. We are both crap at goodbyes. But we knew that we’d see each other for more adventures soon.
In the morning, she waved goodbye, while I hid under the covers, feeling terribly poorly. ‘Ughhhhhh I’m sick’ mixed with ‘ugggghhhhhhh I’m sick and I need to pack’. But don’t you worry Petals, I pulled all of my energy together to run errands, eat, pack and then be driven to Bournemouth Airport by EBFBFF.
Spain was on my brain. A little anxious and nervous I was off to the unknown, not knowing where my journey would lead and not really knowing a word of Spanish. In my upcoming blog, I’ll fill you in on my entry into Espana, on how I got by without anyone speaking English, and how I secured my hotel room that didn’t lock.