Chickenlady's cheap holiday story reminded me
In the mid 90's me and the ex went on a last minute cheapo holiday to the Costa del Sol. £120 quid all in for the two of us if I remember, in February. A week in the sun as a pick me up to get us through the end of winter. We'd never been to Spain before, so figured it would be a good way to test the water.

I got the shits big time. For a whole week. The plane journey back was a nightmare (by this point she had got them too) and we were sat next to an elderly woman who was clearly nervous and wouldn't shut up. For 3 hours... God, the agony of it.

So a cheap holiday in the sun ended up costing me about half my body weight in excreted liquid shit.

Fast forward a few years, similar scenario and time of year, only this time Gran Canaria. Similar price for a week in the sun. Fine and dandy. Had a reasonable week, but felt no real desire to go back there. Didn't really connect with the place (the fact that it was full of pissed up Brits and knobends constantly hassling you to go and look at their luxury holiday accommodation, i.e. timeshares, was a tad offputting as well), and we were glad to get home.

Where I dicovered that our bank account had been fleeced to the tune of some £2,500. My cash card had been 'swallowed' by an ATM, and despite my reporting it to my bank within 10 minutes, they had failed to put a stop on my card.

So two 'cheap' holidays, both of which were shit (one literally), and one of which ended up costing me considerably more than I had bargained for (at least for 10 days until Barclays admitted that they had made an error and accepted that I hadn't been spending vast amounts of pesetas on telephone porn).
( Davros' Granddad a voice of calm reason in a world of spastics., Tue 8 Jan 2008, 10:35, Reply)