Right, before I get wave after wave of my adoring blog fans (particularly my Dad) pointing it out,  I know this blog is going to be littered with missing words, spoiling misteaks and bad grandma because I am in a hurry, having just packed my bag and found my passport for my brief sortie down to the Costa Del Sol with old and dear friends Paul Baverstock and Pete Holcroft.

The decision was made on the this trip back on about pint number five during a rain sodden July evening in the middle of our monsoon summer that depressed even the most stoical members of the Great British public. Not being one to smack an opportunity of a trip abroad square in the face, Pete brushed off his Saturday morning hangover and got on the internet and that was basically it done. I will hold my hands up and admit that my input to the trip has hovered around the zero per cent mark, but I have been nominated as the car driver, despite my impressive record of stacking a Fiat van into a bollard approximately three yards outside the hire centre on our last trip to Spain in October 2007.

When I was at work the other day, I was discussing trips with a colleague, Darrell, who expressed deep shock that I had not been on a foreign trip since 2009 and he is right of course, it is a piss poor effort, especially after years of traveling regularly. If you spend too much time behind closed doors in Blighty, there is a very real danger that you could end up drawing your curtains and eat Shepherds Pie every night whilst claiming all foreigners stink and that Nigel Farage and UKIP are the only political route that make sense to keep Britain great.

Not that I am off to some exotic land to experience the diverse culture of another country of course, this only the Costa Del Sol, a place where it is easier to find Marmite on toast than Paella, but with a hire car there is at least the the opportunity to drive out and explore further and with the mountain ranges in that part of the world, there are bound to be thrills and spills along the way. However, I am past the age where having a game of chicken with 40 tonne Juggernaut driven by a maniac who’s blood pressure is at boiling point because he hasn’t been paid for three months; logic tells me that in your average game of chicken, a Spanish truck will normally conquer a Vauvxhall Corsa driven by a terrified Englishman.

So, anyway, I am looking forward to spending time with good friends and just going with the flow, it will be really intriguing to see what kind state Spain is in after the economic disaster that has engulfed the place since 2008, I am assuming that there will be a lot of boarded up shops and restaurants and half built villa’s, though it is hard to gauge just how bad things are in these countries just by watching in TV documentaries that always show the very worst examples of depression to ensure good ratings. It might not be that bad?

Anyway, I better finish packing….Marmite..packed… PG Tips…Packed…Digestive biscuits…packed…Fray Bentos steak and Kidney Pie…packed…Eeeeeeh…You won’t catch me eating that foreign muck!!

Adios amigos!