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Croissant, coffee and a twerk...
Why...
Are we dancing the day away? We all go on holiday to shake up our routine and reverse-pedal the 9-5 treadmill. However I note now that on the beaches from St.Tropez to Cabo San Lucas nightclubs are so passé. Day clubs are where it's at. So after you have had your morning sh*t, shave and shower and are sucking down some java, nibbling on a croissant that costs more than your room, you can now decide where you are going to spend the rest of the morning raving. Yup. Before you can say E and bacon (and I don't mean eggs) you are up and dancing to Mura Masa Charlie, Major Lazer or Katy Perry at a time any self-respecting teen-ager should still be in bed. There are distinct pluses and minuses to this. On the plus side there are no more excuses about whom you went to bed with not looking quite so good ‘in the cold light of day’..... cause that's now when you picked 'em up! There is no need to go to the expense of paying for dinner before going out clubbing and if some ravers still come with parents attached, a curfew is irrelevant. You even get to work on your tan while twerking. The down side is even at my most degenerate, vodka shots for 'elevenses' instead of tea and digestives or an ice cream were never on the cards. The dark of the bat caves of most nightclubs hide a number of evils... not least the fact that I dance like my Dad and occasionally play air guitar. These day clubs take place outside on the beach which means you can be seen by others. Not only can members of the public see what an idiot I am, but the partner I danced with the day before and to whom I pledged my troth can see what a shallow fool I am! Even if you go right over the top and order bottles of champagne large enough to contain a Shetland pony which arrive with a fanfare of fireworks, when do you call it a day... or night? If you start at 10am do you really rave all day then from 4pm-10pm have a snooze and start all over again? Or do you bop till you drop? Your body will experience a new kind of jet lag; rave lag.
...and another thing
Now that I am turning into an O.F. (old fart) do I really want to lie on the beach with rave music with a beat banging in my head like a blacksmith’s anvil?
Then there is the nightclub detritus of vomit, condoms and passed out revelers that at night all get cleaned up by some beach dawn patrol but will be plainly visible as I pick my way to the buffet for lunch!
On the other hand I do quite fancy the idea if the latest James Patterson thriller is not gripping me I can leave my deck chair for a quick dance and some narcotics before I need to change for dinner! I may even tell the waiter I love him and everyone in the restaurant….
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Basking on the beaches of the Thames here in 30° C – Civilised – Civilized