It Could Be Worse..

We were relaxing yesterday morning in the local pool. Our rooms are directly on the beach, but sometimes the sand becomes a bit much, and the 100 metre walk to the bar is too stressful, so we go to the local pool. (The bar is only 20 metres away.)

I noticed the Blonde Guy first. He was reclining on a sun lounger. Like a corpse reclines. He was wearing shorts. Nothing else.

Now Blonde Guys are not unusual round these parts. There is a Swedish Complex very close. (Hotel is too small a word. This place looks like one of those big sets from a James Bond movie. I swear I saw a man in a leather armchair cuddling a Persian cat.)

It is just up the hill. 700 Swedes, all looking for alcohol and entertainment. (Well, actually to the Swedes they seem to be the same thing.)

This chap was notable for two things. He looked like Martin Clunes, and he was sleeping the sleep of the heavily Hung-Over. I.E. Nearly Dead.

We had a certain amount of fun watching his pale Nordic skin slowly turn to crackling in front of us. I actually, (only briefly) considered either spraying him with water or squirting him with sun lotion. I did neither, naturally.

Then he woke up. He spoke perfect, polite English, with a hangover.

"Hello!. How long have you been here?"

Not as long as you.

"I work here, at the S*****G" (Swedish place.)"

"We had a staff party last night. This is as far as I got on the way back. We went to the Rock Bar..."

" I Think..."

"It has been 45 degrees Centigrade here for the last three weeks."

" I work in the entertainment section at the complex."

We felt he was being chatty, but also needed to unburden himself of some terrible secret...

"It is not a bad job. I work with the children. Four hours a day. Not bad."

"Sometimes I dress up as a giant Giraffe..."

"That is not too bad."

...

"On other days I dress up in the bear costume. I was in the bear costume all last week. 45 Degrees. "

"It was not good."

With that he stood up without looking. And walked into the pool....