Mental Pictures by the Pool Bar

So guys our holiday is over. 

Have I enjoyed it? Of course I have.

Would I do it again? I’m not sure. 

Does Dad know that? I’m not sure!

Should I tell him this could be a first and last. Definitely not!

Instead we enjoy our last day at the pool bar people watching.

I think most of us people watch but there are some people who people watch that have a certain look in their eyes. Those people may have a terminal illness or maybe they are realising they are getting old!

It’s a look that I first noticed in mum when she was diagnosed with stage 4 cancer. When she thought I wasn’t looking I used to see her smiling as the kids played and I knew she was taking those mental pictures she would need in her darkest days.

Now Dad is not terminal but he is definitely showing signs of age.

After a week of pushing him around in a cheap foldable wheelchair and checking out all the accessible toilets in the resort I am almost positive this could be his last trip abroad.

I am so keen to make sure he takes those mental pictures so that we can enjoy talking about our Fuertaventura holiday when we are in Flamborough or some other seaside resort in England! 

The thing is Dad doesn’t have that look. He doesn’t seem to think he needs to remember this holiday because he thinks we will do this again next year.

 I’m not sure if I should tell him that this could be his last trip abroad. I keep dropping hints about the wonderful hotels in Blackpool but he soon changes the subject.

I sit with him by the pool bar and encourage him to store the people we have been watching in his memory.

There’s the big Irish guy whose had too much sun.

The 20 stone guy from Birmingham who sits at the pool bar all day making the most of the all inclusive snacks and drinks.

The cockney couple who are so much in love they share a sunbed.

The family from Liverpool who join in all those dodgy poolside games.

Not forgetting the little girl who smiles at Dad every time she goes for an ice cream.

In the future we will remember these people and I am making sure I take those mental pictures so that we can share memories together...... somewhere in England that’s not a long car journey and with a bloody disabled toilet that doesn’t need a Radar key!!!!

Meanwhile we will look forward to Christmas and I’ll keep my eyes open for that look that tells me he’s taking those mental pictures.

But I have a feeling that by time I see that look in dad’s eyes I will probably be the one in the wheelchair!

People Watching and Flying Pigs

As we near the end of our holiday here in Fuertaventura I have been chatting to Dad about our adventures. 

I actually think he’s been on a different holiday to me!

He seems to have forgotten the time I was pushing him along the Promenade and the African guy selling fake purses and handbags had to catch him as we hit a ridge in pavement.

Neither can he remember getting stuck between two sun beds as he was trying to lift himself from sunbed to wheelchair. The wheelchair slipped and Dad went flying onto the neighbouring bed which had just been vacated by a big German guy.

I laugh as I talk about my agility with a wheelchair. I know exactly when to turn him around and pull him up kerbs and within days I had sussed which way to go to avoid those steep inclines.

Dad has no recollection of any of this. 

However he can tell me which bar serves the best beer and which bar maid has the nicest legs.

He remembers the name of the lass with bright pink hair who offered to wheel him to the Irish Bar and sing Danny Boy as a duet.

He asks me every day what day it is and when I go to wake him and tell him it’s 9 o clock he always asks

“Is that morning or night?”

There has to be a certain satisfaction at not knowing or caring whether it’s day or night and to have no concept of time.

Having said that Dad seems to know exactly when it’s 11.30am because that’s the time he has started drinking every day!

I get him a beer go for a dip in the pool then return to the pool bar and people watch with Dad.

He hasn’t brought his hearing aid so when he loudly points out the size of one guys belly I know it’s time to move on. 

Moving on entails getting back into his wheelchair. He doesn’t like sitting in his wheelchair so wherever we go he moves from wheelchair to comfy chair! 

He is blissfully unaware of how long this takes him. He always stops half way to admire the view and take a sneaky look around for any new single ladies in the vicinity.

Its also accompanied by various grunts, groans and expletives as he tells his 80 year old body that it’s acting like a 95 year old geriatric.

If I’ve learned anything this holiday it’s that patience and routine are the key as well as a sense of humour. 

Dad is already planning our next holiday abroad and every time he mentions it I point out that pink pig with wings that’s flying in the sky!

So far I’ve spotted 6 pink pigs and Dad has missed everyone of them.

Beauty Queens and Little Black Books.

Dad has travelled the world. He loves to experience different cultures even if he does refer to Asians as “Dirty Buggers” and Mexicans as “Money Grabbers!” 

The last time he holidayed alone it was to Benidorm in 2014 and he returned with a little book of phone numbers and a story to tell about the woman he met who used to be a pole dancer in a bar in Greece! (That’s for another blog!)

Since 2014 Dads mobility has deteriorated, but he still wants to travel and add more phone numbers to his little book! 

So here we are in Furtaventura  in 2018 and Dad is still collecting numbers but it seems I am cramping his style.

He keeps sending me to the bar so that he can try and catch the attention of the two ladies on the next table( one who is also in a wheelchair) 

I returned with a glass of wine just in time to hear his chat up line of

“So how long have you been using a wheelchair!!

I just can’t help but chuckle as well as admire his determination to impress the ladies with his tales.

We spend an hour a day at the local dive centre where my hubby Mark is working with the finalists of Miss Scuba Uk. We arrive just as the boat is returning from the dive site.

The girls come out of the water and peel off their wet suit in the dive centre bar where we are having a beer. 

These girls are extremely fit and they are wearing very small bikinis. As they come across to talk to us they shake off the excess water from their long hair and I wonder if Dad wishes he had his little book of phone numbers.

I get ready to apologise in case he offers his knee to one if not all of them.

Then just before they arrive at our table an aeroplane flies overhead and he looks up and identifies the exact make and model of the said aeroplane and spends the next 10 minutes talking about the Dreamliner to these scantily clad Miss Scubas. They tried to appear interested and smiled sweetly at him before excusing themselves to  sit with a group of young German divers. I’m not sure If Dad was aware of their complete disinterest or maybe he’s realised that he has more chance with Mary in the wheelchair back at the pool bar!

Dad is providing me with so much material I can’t write it quick enough!

Get ready for the one when we hit a bump in the road and Dad had to helped back in the wheelchair!

I’m off to get another beer as it’s the only thing that’s keeping me sane.