Wednesday 26th April 2023, 14.45: 

I’m sitting in Bar MCR at Manchester Airport with a pint of San Miguel. Mother has gin and lemonade and Jen has rose wine. Jen is insistent that I write a blog for this holiday so, at the sixth time of asking, I have relented. I apologise in advance if she’s forced you to read this, as I’m sure she inevitably will to everyone she sees for the first 3 weeks after we get back – I’ll try to keep it as brief and humorous as possible. To get us started, I’ll give you an example of the kind of humour Jennifer Fell has – one of the IPA’s served at the bar we’re sitting in is called Beaver Town, to which Jen points out “Hayley, you should love that”. I must admit, I laughed, as did Mother. 

We’ve raised our glasses to our good friend Ali, who couldn’t be with us on this holiday for reasons I’m sure most of you are aware of. However, before we left she implored us to “get our money’s worth” and drink as much as she would have in her absence, although I did advise I’d probably need my stomach pumped once a day if I attempted such a feat. I can drink with the best of them, but Alison Colley is in a league of her own. 

So, here we are. I’ll keep you updated as we go. I would try to write some more but, despite the fact our flight isn’t for another hour, Jen has been checking the departure board every 3 fucking minutes, so I must go and reassure her that we aren’t going to miss it. 

Chow for now. H x

Wednesday 26th April 2023, 23.20 (Turkish time): 

It’s raining. Not only is it raining, I’m on a fucking bus on the way to the hotel, arguably the worst form of transport ever invented. There’s numerous loud English people on the bus too, and everyone is making conversation about the rain, as we English seem to be pathologically programmed to do – it’s not the start to the holiday that I envisioned. Jen is discussing her options with fellow passengers about potentially putting in a complaint to easyJet, largely because one of the stewardesses was “a bit of a bitch” (yes, I flew easyJet, no, I’m not proud of it – civil service pay is not what it once was, apparently). I’m sat on my own listening to a Lana Del Rey album, as recommended to me by a needy twink I’m talking to (fwb, darling, don’t get excited), and it feels appropriate for the moment as I watch the rain poor through the windows of a BUS (I’ve also had quite a few beers). Actually, whilst on the subject, it was £9.50 for two 330ml cans of Birra Moretti on the plane – are you taking the piss? 

I just glanced over at Mother and she’s nodding off. God, I fucking love that woman. I couldn’t actually put into words how much I adore her and I’m so looking forward to spending this week with her (and Jen, as I know she’ll probably whine if I don’t include her). I do hope Jen, however, doesn’t get sucked in to making friends with the horrid English people on the coach and doing that weird thing where everybody makes friends and enjoys dinner together in the hotel (I can already hear some of you calling me a misery guts but I come on holiday to get away from English people, not meet more of the fuckers). 

It’s wonderful to be back in Turkey – it’s almost akin to returning home, a familiar land that provides one with comfort and tranquillity. We’ve never been to this part of Turkey before and I’m torn about how I want to tackle it – half of me wants to get out there and explore, whilst half of me wants to lounge around the hotel getting pissed and doing sweet fuck all (it’s a 5* all inclusive by the way, not sure if I mentioned that, probably won’t bring it up much throughout the week). I already have a reasonably strong feeling as to which impulse will prevail. 

I’m bored now, my beer has ran out and I need to concentrate on not pissing myself for the next hour. Chow. H x

Thursday 27th April 2023, 11.25: 

I’ve only just woken up properly and I’ve already got Jennifer Fell standing at the end of my bed explaining how she’s made new friends and the breakfast is shit. You know when you’ve just woken up and you’re not quite ready for a conversation yet? Yeah, that. In fairness, she’s also informed us that there’s bingo on later, so I’ll let her off, and she’s also explaining how she has already given her Instagram to one of the bell boys, which is simultaneously unsurprising and terrifying. 

I didn’t sleep very well last night because Mother has taken up the less than endearing hobby of snoring. Perhaps it’s karma for still sharing a room with my Mum on holiday at the age of 24, although more likely it’s just her old age. Someone said to me the other day, in jest (I think/hope), “you’re going to end up as one of those creepy old gays that’s obsessed with their Mum”, and since they said that to me, I haven’t been able to shake the thought that it might actually be true. Worst things to be I suppose (is there?). 

The hotel is absolutely stunning, absolutely huge and the bloke on reception is absolutely fit, so I’m reasonably happy. The lobby bar is open 24hrs and there’s at least one food/snack buffet open from 7am to 9pm, so I’m definitely going to be returning home weighing about 23 stone. It looks a bit windy today and it’s only 18 degrees but I’m not really arsed, it’s just so nice to be away. The view from our balcony is a river, fields and mountains beyond, which is extremely pretty, and then the beach is apparently only 250 metres in the other direction, so the location seems to be quite suitable for a man of my tastes. I’m a bit pissed off that I’ve missed breakfast, but I’ll just resolve to eat twice as much at lunch to make up for it. 

Anyway, I’m bored now. Chow. H x

Thursday 27th April 2023, 22.40: 

Jen keeps doing stupid fucking things and then saying “that’s one for the blog Harry”, in the most blatant attempt to seek attention that I’ve ever seen. In all honesty, I have to admire the graft, it’s almost putting my own attention seeking antics to shame. However, I did feel like I did need to jot this one down though – in lieu of a tip (she had no cash on her), Jen has given another one of the bell boys her Instagram, which Mother and I have naturally agreed was a very smart and sensible choice. Anyway, he’s dropped her a message her tonight telling her how beautiful she looks, so Mum decided to take it a step further – I won’t repeat her verbatim, through fear of Jen’s parents ever reading this, but my Mother insinuated some, well, *things*, to which Jennifer proceeded to start dry heaving in the lobby, such was her apparent disgust. I don’t mean, like, pretending to be sick in a joke-like manner, I mean full on dry heaving as if she was going to projectile vomit all over the poor German family sitting opposite us. It was a sight to behold and I honestly admire the dedication to the cause. 

We were playing bingo tonight. One of the Turkish waiters was getting very flirty with me (naturally), so Jen decided she was going to “wingman” me. I’ll give you an example of Jens attempt to wingman – said waiter was “helping” me mark my bingo card and, when the number 79 was called, she announced to the waiter that “I bet you wish that number was 10 less, don’t you”. Firstly, I was impressed at the speed of her maths, but secondly, it was such a poor attempt at wingmanship that I genuinely couldn’t help but laugh. You have to admire the effort I suppose, and I don’t think he understood anyway in all fairness – Jen is difficult to understand at the best of times, never mind when you don’t even speak the same language as her. 

I feel like this blog is becoming too Jen-centric, so I’m going to stop now and I’ll try to write again tomorrow about something else. Chow. H x

Friday 28th April 2023, 14.25: 

I’ve already had the highlight of my holiday – there’s a discotheque in the basement of the hotel we’re staying in, so we ventured down last night after bingo and I was greeted with one of the greatest sights I’ve ever seen – an elderly German couple (they must have been in their late 70’s at least) dancing to an EDM remix. I mean, they were only bopping about, but it was genuinely remarkable, Grandma was absolutely tearing up the dance floor in her espadrilles – if I’m not doing that at that age then I will have failed in life. After the disco finished, Jen copped off with a Frenchman (apparently she spent most of their time together communicating through Google translate) whilst Mother and I went for a midnight snack of soup, bread and meats in the restaurant, which I feel sums up perfectly the general vibe of this holiday so far. 

We’ve come down to Side (pronounced Cedar) today, which is a beautiful little harbour town about 15 minutes from where we’re staying. It’s a remarkable mixture of ancient Hellenistic ruins and a modern tourist port, which I think perfectly encapsulates the modern Turkish Republic. I did briefly try to explain the history of the Ottoman Empire to Jen, but she seems to be more interested in giving her Instagram out to any Turkish bloke that looks under 30. According to her most recent flirty exchange, she looks like Shakira and I look like Rambo – I’m not really sure how to feel about that one. 

We had a gorgeous Turkish kebab for lunch, which they cooked in a ceramic pot over hot coals and then served by breaking the pot open with a hammer. It was absolutely delectable. We’re now just wandering around the port looking for things to waste our money on and taking in the gorgeous views of the Mediterranean Sea. According to a friendly Kurdish man that tried to sell me a stone island jumper (I don’t think he quite understood the vibe I’m going for), much of the area has only been built in the last few years, and in all fairness it is very impressive. 

More updates later. Chow. H x

Saturday 29th April 2023, 11.40: 

The sun is out and Mother is happy, arguably the two keys to a good life. The plan is to spend today lounging around the pool and I’m more than happy to oblige – it is absolutely huge and, because the tourist season hasn’t properly started yet, relatively empty, which suits me just fine. There’s still far too many vile children running about making noise for my liking, however, but I’ll try to make do. I might even try to get a tan. 

You’ll probably lament me for being boring and middle aged here, but I only stayed in the bar until about half 10 last night, before retiring to the room to watch the golf on Sky Go. Honestly? Sue me. I booked this holiday to relax, and relaxation for me is watching Jon Rahm sink a 30ft eagle putt. Actually, having read that sentence back, maybe I should reconsider.

I’m indulging in all of my usual holiday pleasures, including smoking a worrying amount of cigarettes – it works out at £3.50 for 20 Marlboro, however, which is fucking extortion if you ask me. The beer is also as weak as piss and they only serve it in half pint glasses, which is a betrayal of all the values of our great British nation if you ask me. I mean, I know I’m not currently in our great British nation, but we all know we expect our values to be upheld wherever we venture, such is our imperial nostalgia and arrogance. See, I can even squeeze a bit of politics in whilst I’m away.

Time to swap over to my back. Chow. H x

Sunday 30th April 2023, 20.00:

I was the first to retire to the room last night, but I’m informed that after I did, Mother decided to sit and name all of the men that Jen has flirted with/snogged so far, and they’re as follows; Microphone Matt (because he’s “too loud”), Pervy Pete (because he “stares at your arse every time you bend over”), French Frog (because, well, he’s French, and casual racism is apparently tolerable if it’s towards the French) and Tommy Trips (because he’s the guy in the hotel that organised our day trip). Imagine my heartbreak discovering I missed out on this brainstorming session. 

We’ve been on a day trip today (shout out to Tommy Trips) to the city of Alanya, which is about an hour away from where we’re staying. We visited the Damlataş Caves and Alanya Castle, took a boat trip around the harbour, went for lunch at a floating restaurant and spent an hour or so wandering around the markets trying to find some good quality knock offs for Sam Morris. The history of Turkey is so deep and rich that it never ceases to amaze me – the Mosque at Alanya Castle was first built in 1231, and there are graves in the cemetery dating to the 13th century. It’s rather annoying that we didn’t have much time to properly explore it – Alanya Castle is at the top of quite a large hill so we had to get a cable car to reach the top, which Mother threatened to push Jen out of if she didn’t behave. Then the boat trip took us around the base of the hill upon which the castle is built, during which we were sat opposite a German couple whose only words were, inquisitively, “English” and then, upon confirmation, “ahhh King Charles, yes”. British soft power in action. 

The restaurant was so cool, it was floating on barrels and tethered to the dock, with floor height tables surrounded by cushioned seating. Unfortunately, the markets were quite disappointing, as everything seems to have rapidly shot up in price over the past few years, which is probably somehow the fault of Boris Johnson. Hayals did manage to get a bargain on some Turkish ornaments she liked the look of, however, by giving the old shopkeeper a kiss on the cheek and then offering to sell Jen to him for 50 lira (£2.04 at the latest exchange rates). I also bought an ashtray because, well, of course I did. The shopkeeper, unprompted, told Jen that she looks like Shakira, as the Kurdish shopkeeper we met did a few days ago, so I’m worried she’s now convinced she might actually be Shakira. 

I might attach some photos when I upload this, but I’ll see. Chow for now. H x

Monday 1st May 2023, 16.30: 

We popped into Manavgat this morning, which is the nearest local town, for a mooch around the market, and thank god it was a proper Turkish market, not the shite shops we got in Antalya, although the prices were no better. How they can justify €5 for a Gucci t-shirt is beyond me – inflation is a menace. My favourite part of the morning was when babs asked me “why don’t you buy a river island top so you can go fighting when we get back” – it took me a solid 20 seconds to realise she was referring to stone island, not river. We had a little giggle. 

I am assuming this part of Turkey must be more popular with the Germans than us Brits, as most stall holders greeted us with Guten Morgen instead of the usual Hello Mate. Some of the responses we got upon announcing our Englishness did make me chuckle; “lovely jubbly”, “cheaper than Asda” and, my personal favourite, “ah Wayne Rooney”. I didn’t think the hair transplant was that obvious? 

After the markets we took a wander down some back streets and we finally found what we came to Turkey for – a proper Turkish kebab. It’s hard to describe just how nice they are if you’ve never had one, but fuck me they are nice. Two kebabs and two chai’s was £4.50, which is much more reasonable and like the prices we’re used to. Unfortunately Jen didn’t get to taste the kebab as she didn’t join babs & I at the market – she didn’t make it back to her room until half 4 this morning. French Frog went home yesterday, but apparently it didn’t take her long to find another Frenchman to enjoy. 

We are spending the afternoon lounging around the pool. I’m currently reading Young Mungo, which is excellent but awfully sad, and I wish I hadn’t chosen it to read whilst I’m away on holiday trying to relax. All four of the waiters on pool service this afternoon are remarkably sexy, however, and there’s an ice cream bar which I’ve already frequented three times today, so I’ve still very much enjoyed my afternoon. Whilst I’ve been reading Young Mungo, Jen has been reading Take A Break – apparently there’s breaking news about a husband who has found his wife a new husband who is better suited for her. It almost makes me wonder why I bother reading The Times (I read The Times, by the way, not sure if I’ve ever mentioned it). 

A few quick points; 

• German men need to realise that they really cannot pull off speedos 
• English women need to realise that they really cannot pull off the very-obviously-fake Christian Dior dress they’re wearing 
• Turkish waiters need to realise that I am the man they’ve been waiting for and approach me as such

Right, time for a beer I reckon – şerefe. H x

Monday 1st May 2023, 23.00: 

Quick update. On the plane on the way here, Jen decided to start calling me Honey H, after the “singer” Honey G. I have no idea why she decided to do this, but it’s stuck. Anyway, after her antics this week, Mother has come up with a reciprocal nickname for Jen – Jizzy J. Apt, one would say. 

Chow. H x

Tuesday 2nd May 2023, 13.45: 

I’m lounging on a sun bed at the beach, reluctantly relegated to the shade as the blaring sun has turned me a horrid tinge of red – with a fag in one hand and a copy of The New Statesman in the other, I feel like I’m striking the balance between my conflicting personalities rather well. The sea is a beautiful turquoise and the waves are providing a tranquil soundtrack to what is the most peaceful Tuesday afternoon I’ve had in a very long time. I can see babs and Jen soaking up the beautiful rays and I long to return to them, but for now I’m making do with reading and smoking in the shade. It could be worse. 

We had a beautiful Turkish kebab for lunch, wrapped in a fresh vegetable-infused flatbread that was cooked on a hot iron grill in front of us, which always adds to the touristy authenticity of a meal. As well as a beautiful lunch, the lifeguard on duty is also remarkably attractive, which helps to offset the mildly disturbing amount of gross old German men. Our hotel has its own section of the beach with a free bar, so one really can’t complain.  

There is, however, that little voice of sadness in the back of my mind, reminding me that this is our last full day in this beautiful place. That’s the problem with holidays isn’t it, they always have to come to an end. I’m doing my best to live in the moment, nonetheless, and the beauty of the endless sea sprawling out in front of me is helping me to do so, as is the occasional cackle wandering over the beach as Mother once again says something Miss Fell finds amusing. I’ve also already got a round of golf booked in for Thursday afternoon, which somewhat softens the blow of my inevitable return to the shire. 

I’m off for a swim. Chow. H x

Wednesday 3rd May 2023, 16.05: 

“Bonjour, let me the fuck in” is how Miss Fell just asked to be granted entrance to my room. The bloody cheek of it. 

I’ve spent the day in bed. I let Jen convince me to get drunk last night and, as such, I have inevitably paid the price – I’ve thrown up about 7 times and my head feels like it’s been pounded with a jackhammer. I’m convinced that they gave me vodka instead of gin (vodka always makes me violently ill), although Hayley pointed out it could be the fact that I mixed beer, gin, rum and tequila, which also seems like a reasonable theory. 

Unfortunately, today is our last day and the transfer will be collecting us in a few hours. I’ve actually had a really wonderful time this past week, it’s been so nice and chilled and we haven’t stopped laughing, sometimes with Jen but, most of the time, at her. I feel relaxed, refreshed and ready to return to the rat race (the rat race being minimising my workload and maximising my golfing time). 

I still feel too delicate to write any more. I might do some more later on the plane. Chow. H x

Thursday 4th May 2023. 01.45: 

After a 90 minute delay, we’re finally flying back to glorious England. I’m in seat 13C whilst Hayals is in 2B, which is horrid as I hate being away from her. However, it has worked to my advantage – for some reason, the cabin crew are only serving drinks and food to the first few rows of the plane at the minute, but babs paid for me to have a cup of tea, a can of Diet Coke and some Pringles, and then persuaded one of the crew to bring them down to me in the lowly row 13 (I have an entire row to myself). Well, you should see the look on the faces of the elderly women in row 12 – they’re looking at me as if I’ve just taken a shit on their fold down tables. I mean, I’m sorry Barbara but it’s not my fault you’re going to have to wait another half an hour to get your brew, is it? Stop staring me out and fuck off back to reading your Danielle Steel. 

Full holiday debrief tomorrow, maybe. Chow. H x

Thursday 4th May 2023, 20.20 (English time): 

I’m sitting in my living room with a glass of wine, having just shared a curry with Mum, Jen and Ali. We’re giving Ali a debrief on the holiday, which has so far mainly consisted of Jen running through the seventy three different men she was chatting to. As I sit here editing my blog, I can’t help but think how lucky I am, not only to be blessed with such a wonderful Mother with whom I share such a close bond, but also to be able to get on so well with her wonderful friends, who I hold very dear to my heart and would honestly consider my own friends too. Life is good. 

I shot 112 this afternoon, by the way – what a piss take. Chow bella. H x