Swimming, Golf and Plotting

In the Swim OK work invades my toughts. I've stuffed up on the stats. Send a hasty message to everyone via internet TV. Aaargh! but it's horrible and to blame for the posts right now, which I'll tidy up when I get near something sensible.

Fud, Jetlag and More Fud

Scran

Hit the buffet for dinner. It's western night! Food is more tha adequate and plentiful. Cracking Quesadillas. In the short time since arrival I've learnt to always accept a lime fr Mexican beer. It adds some sort of flavour! Having eaten, we collapse into deep sleep back at he room.

Jet Lag

How I hate thee! Wake at one in the morning local time and my head says go back to sleep, my circadian rhythm yells get up you lazy bastard. Head sort of wins but that old man rhythm won't be denied on an hourly basis. By 6. local time I'm on the hunt for coffee. I'm rewarded for my efforts with the sight of numerous bats flitting about before dawn stomps their nocturnal food scavenge.

Breakfast

Ths we take at the beach club. Very nice. I hit the odd mexican thing. Can't resist. Fried plantain interesting.

Reminds me of a song by the Who!

Cancun Airport

I like Mexican Immigration, relatively fast, effcient and the selection of people to search at customs has a touch of Las Vegas about it as you press a button on a set of traffic lights to randomly pick search or non-search. Red light bad, green light good! If you are very unlucky or particularly attractive a non-existent blue light leads to a strip search!

Recover the bags, find our rep and sort transport to the hotel. Straight there an hour all told and we've discovered where the combined expertise of the South Oxfordshire and North Lanarkshire road menders association come on holiday. The roads are concrete strips with pot holes and cunningly placed sleeping policemen. At this point I'm thanking my lucky stars that Monst forgot my licence and we can't hire a car!

We arrive at he Hotel, very posh. Manuel 3 the bell-boy grees us. I thought they they only exited in hollywood movies of the 40's.

Flying

Sunday Monst has a cunning plan, so good I've typed about it three times! She has upgraded the flights to something like Star Class Premier League Sandwich Spread Cup Class. Ether way it means that we cruise through the check-in queues an get into the security queues in double quick time. Breakfast and plane. It also means maximally attentive cabin crew. No shortage of liquid refreshment and an entertainment system that doesn't have me scurrying for a set of headphones, well for most of the trip. Does raise the question though 'Why does time disappear when you get into a thin metal tube?' Find myself with a tin of beer at an hour of the day that is patently ridiculous when I sit back and rationally think about it.