ALISON'S DIARY

Jul 15 2007 Alison Craig

lifestyle SITTING ON THE TERRACE ON HOLIDAY, WE HEAR RUSTLING IN THE FOLIAGE..THEN OUT WALK THREE BEARDY, GRUMPY GOATS

MONDAY

Arrive in Puerto Pollensa, Majorca, for this year's hot two-week extravaganza. Actually, we are here for a week then off to Italy to see pals so we are travelling light for a change. I had made a pact only to take things that fit, so I am travelling with something barely bigger than a holdall.

The one thing that I do take is a good book or three and this year Jilly Cooper has a new one out which I have no hesitation in buying at the airport. I went through a phase of buying books I thought I should be reading as opposed to ones I actually wanted to.

Just before leaving, I was asked to join a book club and told the first book we are to read is A Suitable Boy by Vikram Seth. I went into town to buy it and was horrified to find it's vast and weighs about the same as the Yellow Pages. I told someone who, with no hesitation, said: "For God's sake, don't take that on holiday, you'll never read it."

So dumping it as a doorstop until after the holiday, it was Jilly Cooper's latest, Wicked, I clutched in my mitt as we boarded the plane to Palma. By the time the drinks trolley arrived, I was hooked.

TUESDAY

First night in and slept not a wink - thanks to David who has pushed his snoring capabilities to Olympic standard. I shuffle off to the chemist and point in my ear while re-enacting my sleepless night to a lovely lady who doesn't speak English.

Eventually when she clocks the baggy eyes, grumpy expression and me standing waving my arms around saying "man" then making noises like a pig she produces wax earplugs. My saviour and new best friend.

WEDNESDAY

Text from my pal who is on the island too. Her husband Andy and their wee boy are planning a game of golf with my Dave and our wee boy, which is ideal. The plan is the girls can lie around and sunbathe while they play. The plan is going very well until the sun goes away then we don't quite know what to do. Early lunch is the conclusion so off we go.

As we sit at the hotel having a sip of rose wine, my cousin and her husband walk past. "Come on and have a wee drink," we shout. Cut to considerably later as Dave and Andy return from the hills. Several nice Majorcan bottles of wine have been and gone. The guys are starving so we are steered to a restaurant where I eat about 6lb of roast lamb before falling into a deep and earplug-free dreamless sleep - it must be all that talking that tires me out.

THURSDAY

Sitting on pal's terrace gossiping when there's a sudden rustle in the bushes.

Both thinking it is a wee kid who has lost his ball and is ferreting about in there, we keep talking as we watch the foliage move noisily from side to side.

That is, until it parts and out stomp three goats. Big, beardy, grumpy, long-horned goats.

They eye us. We eye them. I whisper: "What'll we do?" My pal hisses: "Sit still." For once, I do as I am told.

This lot with their Dennis Healey eyebrows look up for a bit of aggro. They proceed to stomp round us and the terrace, stuffing their faces with leaves and flowers. One approaches me, bulgy eyes staring. I hold my breath as it comes right up and nibbles my leg - with its lips not its teeth, thankfully. It is more tickly than scary, so much so that my hand automatically stretches out and rubs the nobbly bit between its ears.

Once I realise they aren't going to kill and eat me, I get the power of speech back and bravely whisper: "It's quite cute - I think it likes me" to my pal, only to find she has slunk off at speed. Ten minutes later, goat bonding complete, off they go. They say swimming with dolphins can be an uplifting experience - well, so was this, I can tell you.

FRIDAY

Every day feels like the weekend here. It's great. I can see why people live to be about 140 in these parts. The food, sun and relaxed way of life must be the way to go.

As I discuss this with Dave, he looks worried. "You are coming home aren't you?", he asks as he sees me eyeing up the local radio station details and wondering how quickly I could learn Spanish. "Si," I answer. "Si". I wonder if he sees my fingers crossed behind my back.

SATURDAY

The traditional weekend morning hangover is in situ.

That rose wine is too good and too hard to ignore.

Amazingly, even hangovers here are more enjoyable - probably because I don't have to do the washing and cleaning. All I need to do here is roll out of bed, find a swimsuit that covers most of my body and snooze in the sun. Holidays - don't you just love 'em.

THE LADY AT THE CHEMIST SHOP DOESN'T SPEAK ENGLISH BUT WHEN I SAY 'MAN' AND MAKE NOISES LIKE A PIG, SHE HANDS ME A PAIR OF EARPLUGS

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