BrewDog Punk IPA

02:00, 30,000 feet. What beer do you have? BrewDog Punk IPA or Heineken. How much is it? In Euros? Wince.

Backtrack.

07:00, up, coffee. Out to the recycling centre. Two weeks worth of food waste. Tasty. Head back, past the supermarket, closed. Kerb the front right alloy. Hire car. Fuck.

Hit the road, Valldemossa. Tat, ice-cream. Stressing about that alloy.

Hit the road, Sa Foradada. A nice view of a hole. Stressing about that alloy.

Hit the road, Deià. S’Hortet, lunch in the sweltering heat, ice-cream. Stressing about that alloy. Not feeling great either.

Hit the road, Sóller. Tat, drinks, a sheep bell, ice-cream. Stressing about that alloy. Really not feeling that great.

Hit the road, Palma de Mallorca airport. Stressing about that alloy. Desperately trying not to puke.

Nothing wrong with the hire car…!?! Dodged a bullet. Into the terminal, too early to check-in. Stressing about not puking. Daughter puking.

Thoughts of overpriced macro lager gone. Three crisps, trying not to puke. Daughter puking. Feel better when not moving.

Plane delayed arriving, yawn. Board, ask for sick bags, yawn. Technical fault, more delays, yawn. Reboot, yawn. Offski, yawn. Feeling better, ish…

02:00, 30,000 feet. What beer do you have?

Lukewarm and gone in a flash. The holiday over.

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