I like you Spain

Last month, me and my gal pal, Jazzpad (I know, her name's Claire, but Jazzpad just seems so right...) booked a last minute get away to Spain.
Because we thought we earned it.
And we needed some sun and water and cocktails on tap.
Because why not.
So with some last minute packing and a frantic loss of euros (next time I WILL check my passport before I leave the house...), we headed for the airport with determination to unwind those busy brains of ours lately and an excitement for days spent by the pool in nothing more than bikinis.
Bliss.
Because an aeroplane photo is totally justified these days right? We thought so!
Those moments when you pull up on the coach, wondering if the next stop is your hotel. Luckily for us, we got this sweet deal feeling pretty pleased as punch (even if the corridors looked a little like a hospital unit..)
The best way to spend four days in the sun, minimal clothing, a cocktail in hand and a good funny read.
Because you can't go to the beach without picking up a cider in a can. Or two. And falling asleep is totally allowed.
A holiday is no holiday without a late night trip to KFC for some Popcorn rocks and a few hours spent on the beach with German tourists declaring that you don't eat meat. With said meat in your hand.
I don't think it's possible to ever get bored of views like this - blue skies and peaceful blue water.
A cheeky trip to the next town via a boat ride to top up our tan, take in all the beautiful views and tell ourselves we'd achieved something this holiday was right up our street.
So thank you Spain for a blissful four days in the sunshine, getting drunk on vodka and finishing the bar dry of Peach Schnapps (yeah, I'm one of THOSE girls!), reading a whole book, coming home with a tan and feeling utterly rested and motivated for the next few months ahead.
I think I like you Spain.
You did good.

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