Alcudia, Majorca
Never again. Full of drunken lager louts and twatty timeshare touts. To whom we pretended we spoke no English. For fourteen days.

Anyhoo, if you're ever daft (or daring) enough to venture there, avoid at all costs the dump that is "The Bellevue Holiday Village". Chav central, but with sunshine and mosquitoes! Used as a racetrack at night by the local teens. Right by some stagnant water (hence lots of mosquitoes) and with a thriving rat population.

The beds, ah the beds. Now I'm not big. I'm not heavy. But when I lay down in the bed my arse was nearly on the floor. Even my (then) toddler made the bed dip alarmingly. We arrived very late at night and didn't appreciate quite what a shit-hole this place was until the following day. When dawn woke us early 'cos the curtains weren't very thick. Mind you, the sore backs would have had us out of bed pretty sharpish anyway.

First order of business - find the rep. A whole new sport in that place, believe me. We spoke to a couple who'd been there a whole fortnight and hadn't seen hide nor hair of a rep. I spotted a phone number on their notice board and used the trusty mobile to demand that the rep appear forthwith.

Three hours later, a spotty wee oik on a moped puts in a very grudging appearance. We demanded a room with beds that wouldn't cause curvature of the spine, and at least had a clean floor. Nothing doing, the whole place is full up. Move us to another hotel? Nope, this is the only one we book into in Alcudia. Fly home? Only if you book and pay for your own flights. By the time I'd finished haranguing the wee lad, a queue had built up of extremely upset customers. We heard later that he'd been there for over four hours as word of his presence got around. I think its safe to say that no-one wanted to tell him what a grand time they were having.

There were a few lighter moments - one wee chavette came out of the pool with green highlights and didn't know until someone pointed it out a while later. She then yelled at her boyfriend for not telling her and disappeared, never to be seen again in daylight. A bloke who had one of those big "sovvy" rings on every finger discovered that some of them weren't gold when they started to turn his fingers green. Not a happy bunny!

At the end of the two weeks, I was never so glad to see a coach going to the airport in all my life. I could quite happily have kissed the tarmac at Edinburgh airport as well. But it looked a bit dirty, so I didn't.

A long exchange of letters between me and the tour company followed, at the end of which (after I threatened court action) we got some cash compensation.

Length? Fourteen long, uncomfortable nights!
(TheWeeWitch hasn't been here much recently .., Thu 17 Jan 2008, 17:46, Reply)