Mallorca-London-Ibiza-London

Or Mal-lo-ib-don if I had pretensions to write for the Times!

Worramionabout? My new shoes, that's what.

You may know that we're going to England in October and I've already been fretting over what to pack. The thorny problem of shoes reared it's ugly head - wet winter conditions in the Yewkay in October will lead to my leather soled brogues just sucking up water from the flooded streets and probably leave me with a nasty case of trench foot again.

So what to do. First thought was a pair of Docs, but all the reviews on Amazon suggest that Thai manufacturers skimp on build quality and size. So I'm not buying without trying.

Amazon do Campers so I bought a pair. Made in Inca (think Warrington) in Mallorca, they're going all the way to Schuh HQ in fancy London town and then being posted out to me in Ibiza - a round trip of around 2000 miles to cover an as-the-crow-flies journey of around 100 miles. (guestimated figures)

Ironically, they're costing around €30 less than if I'd driven 13 km into Ibiza town to buy some in a shop.

Ibiza Soundrack

We all know what a soundtrack is in English. It's the music that accompanies a film to let us know when a scary bit is coming up, a comedy chase is in progress, or someone is being stabbed in a shower.

In Spanish it's called a banda sonora. That's also the term for those strips that go across a road in an attempt to slow down speeding motorists by making a loud noise as th etyres hit them. When we lived in Cala de Bou there was a lad driving a yellow Beamer who, if he hit 187kph along the Es Puet road could actually play La Cucaracha on the Bandas Sonoras!

In San Antonio on c/Ramon y Cajal they've got whopping big 'sleeping policemen' which are real suspension testers as they're high, and wide enough to house a zebra crossing.

Just by chance the other day as I was negotiating the street, in a perfect Ibiza moment, this came on my mp3 soundtrack in the car.

El Sexto Sentido

It means 6th sense. We had a washing machine delivered today that purports to have it. The blokes who brought it did not. Uncannily they managed to ring to find out where I lived just after I left the house to take the rubbish out - I had a feeling they would, because I left a detailed map for them.

For some reason they were looking for a bus stop by which they could locate us, no idea why, because neither map nor directions mentioned the word bus or stop.

Anyway, in a completely unconnected change of direction, we've been getting ready for summer, teak oiling, linseed oiling, baby oiling and generally putting things in order.

So, from the top, let the Ibiza cliches commence.

Sa Talaia from the Bar in the Sky

Chiringuito el Cielo lounge lounge

Lounge pod with bamboo poles

Yoga platform with Buddha and bamboo poles

I reckon I could get into The Times women's supplement if I was 30 years younger!