Great stories. Anyone been to Donegal? Spent one New Years there with a dozen other people in 2 cabins. Drinking beer on the beach whilst it snowed was quite an experience for an Australian. And walking around the cabins with plastic shopping bags on the feet to keep them warm
Greek Islands were great in '89. Started off in Santorini with the then girlfriend for the first few days. Bit too crowded for my liking so wanted to get over to Crete. GF wanted to go to one of the other party islands so off she went and I went to Crete . Called a friend to come over from London. Was to meet him 80 miles away from where I landed off the ferry so decided to hire a motorbike. Not a good idea when you've had a million beers on the ferry beforehand. Bike decided to do a wheelie of it's own volition and it ended up on the ground with me chasing it trying to stop the engine. Many Greeks swearing at me by this stage. Took the bike back due to it having a mind of it's own. The other guy and I got pissed for the next few days and l was lucky to meet Stephanie, a German nympho
I’ve got plenty of holiday horror stories me.
Another was when a mate of mine kept inviting me over to Crete, where he was working in a bar, telling me it was an absolute “paradise, sandy beaches, beautiful women etc.” I’d be able to stay at the bar / restaurant free of charge, of course.
Anyway, I was eventually persuaded and booked a week out there. Now this mate is what you might call a little unreliable, and a few days before my flight, he stopped answering his phone.
Then the night before my flight, I got a frantic call saying there’d been a “change of plan” and he’d meet me at the airport.
On arrival I discovered that he was now homeless, penniless and also without a passport, having moonlighted from his live in bar job.
He was also being hunted by his ex employee, a huge Greek, said to be very handy with a meat chopper.
He was a little vague about what had taken place, but I got the impression he had been caught in a delicate position with one of the bar owners precious 17 year old daughters.
He now had to leave the island, but the Greek had his passport and clothes.
I had to book us into a down & out YMCA – bunk beds with lunatics sleeping above you, talking to themselves.
The beach was right next to a huge power station, belching smoke, with a heavily patrolled army base on the other side.
Meanwhile I’m told that it’s been arranged with my mate’s uncle, phoning from London to try and sort it out, and the bar owner, that “someone” can come and collect his belongings, as long as he leaves immediately.
So there I am being driven in a taxi, with my “mate”, to the edge of town where I’m dropped off, to walk over and see the Greek at his bar, while the taxi parks out of sight and waits for my return – “Don’t worry, it all sorted!” he tells me.
I was sweating bullets on my way over there, but it turns out ok as I pick everything up with no hassle. A year later, he invited me out to another place, for another "holiday". Needles to say I hung up the phone.
. Called a friend to come over from London. Was to meet him 80 miles away from where I landed off the ferry so decided to hire a motorbike. Not a good idea when you've had a million beers on the ferry beforehand. Bike decided to do a wheelie of it's own volition and it ended up on the ground with me chasing it trying to stop the engine. Many Greeks swearing at me by this stage. Took the bike back due to it having a mind of it's own. The other guy and I got pissed for the next few days and l was lucky to meet Stephanie, a German nympho