I was in Marbella for the latter half of last week celebrating the 50th birthday of my adopted father, Richard Beard. Few men can claim to have the perfect combination of looks, personality and humour, but he is definitely one of them. I can’t help but be in awe of a man who manages to have even less self awareness and humility than myself. I was honoured to be invited and it certainly lived up to, and exceeded, my expectations. I almost feel as though I should issue a formal apology to the residents of Puerto Banus on behalf of us all.
If you want to be all emotional about it, I never had a large family growing up and it was usually just me and my Mum, so it’s always really nice to spend time with a group of people who, even if not by blood, certainly feel as though they are my family. You know how it is, no one ever talks about it because it doesn’t need to be said out loud to be true, but you just know you’d do anything for these wonderful people and they’d happily do the same for you without a second thought. Well, I say no one talks about it, that’s only until there’s 20 pints inside of you and we’re all competing over who loves who more, only for it to be forgotten about the next morning anyway.
On the other hand, if you want to be honest about it, they’re all arseholes and I’m glad I’m home. Sam is selfish and snores too loud, Harry is a gambling addict, Charlie pissed on my balcony, Tom is borderline homophobic, Georgia assaulted me in my sleep, Cory is literally the worst person I’ve ever met, Ross owes me about 43 cigarettes, Jordan is too sensible and Richard is a terrifying sex pest. I won’t even go into Meg & Georgia’s plans for education reform, or Freddie thinking that his vape was waterproof.
Yet, somehow, I did actually have a nice time. Some personal highlights; I wore Lisa’s dress into the hotel restaurant and got dirty looks from old people (the ones you just know voted for UKIP without even having to ask them), I drank too much and woke up the next morning without remembering anything from the night before (on reflection I’m not sure this is a good thing), we walked along the beachfront and admired the view (it stunk of shit), I spent an hour in a club talking to some random Irish bloke about horse racing (apparently this isn’t the best way to flirt), I somehow, miraculously, did not fall out with a single person (I just slagged them all off to each other behind their backs instead), I experienced the joys of an all inclusive hotel for the first time (I ate nuggets & chips for basically every meal), I smoked about 100 marlboro golds, drank an obscene amount of gin and spent a mind boggling amount of money (although still nowhere near as much as Big Moz) and, weirdest of all, I left the bar early on the first night to share a pizza and lemon meringue pie with Diane (they had no ice cream). Most importantly, though, I had fun.
As has been well documented on this blog and elsewhere, I haven’t been feeling great recently. It was nice to escape all of that for a while, and I feel better for it. Being around those whose company I enjoy has reminded me why it’s important to keep going, because for all the shit one has to go through, there are plenty of moments just like this, when you can forget it all and simply enjoy spending time with your friends and family.
