One final English breakfast by the pool in Eldorado style and then we set off for home. Of course we were ridiculously early for the airport because I was terrified about returning the car. I’d expected some slow walking around it and sucking air through teeth. It didn’t happen and I nearly fell over in shock.
We did a lot of queueing at the airport. The women in front and behind me in the queue both had French pedicures. I didn’t even know that was a thing. Apparently it’s a pre-requisite for Ibiza. It was a bit late for me to find out to be honest.
And then I knew we had had the perfect holiday. No nose bleed on the plane, we managed to locate our car in the airport car park and it actually started, which can’t be relied upon in the street outside the house. I drove home in a state of confusion wondering if I’d fallen asleep during the first Witches CD and dreamt the whole thing.