Teenwolf is in Zante – NOW


UnknownHe packed his case 6 hours before he left. He was leaving at 4am so it was just before he fell into a slump.

After he had put in 3 vests, 2 pairs of shorts and some aftershave ( vital obviously)  I stuffed in half a loo roll, some dried apricots, white kit kats, and a medical supply box that would impress  Dr Quinn Medicine Woman.

imagesWipes, bits, stuff for allergies, rehydrators, paracetamol, plasters, mosquito spray.

I recall his first trip away when he was 7 he came back with his toilet bag unopened. Perfect clean folded facecloth, pristine unused soap, toothbrush missing. All clothes folded, and clean – he hadn’t changed his clothes at all.

Yup he left for Zante on Thursday. What I didn’t realise was they were leaving from Glasgow at  6am so had to get there for 4. Herding cats is an over used expression but 16  x 17 & 18 year old boys going off to Zante for the 1st  time free of guidance, nagging, money and bossing of parents is a real cat herding exercise. No shit.

 

Taking a deep breath and determined to give him his space. I have resisted texting. In return every 2 days I get a two work text from Zante boy.
I am happy. This proves many things.

 

  1. He realises I am a neurotic old bat
  2. He is coherent enough to text
  3. He has the foresight to charge his mobile
  4. He notices he is not here.

The brief  communications have been as follows.
Day 1. Arrived safe.

Day 2 NOTHING

Day 3 Apartment dodgy

Day 4 Nothing

Day 5 Need decent food.

 

Of course I have tried cajoling him. What are you eating? How hot is it? And just before I press send I think. Woah. Stop. Being the stalking woman it is not a good look. So I have refrained.

As I sat tucked up on the couch getting over the 2 week stay of our pals from Australia I flicked through the TV idly. And what did I find?

Inbetweeners Movie.
3 minutes in in I recalled the strict instructions from those who know

‘DO NOT under any cicrcumstances watch the Inbetweeners Movie.’

Too late.

Palpitations.

More insomnia – if you wonder if you  can actually have more insomnia and less sleep. I am (zombie like) living proof you can.

The joys of parenthood.

Oh and take it from me. If you are a parent. Do not watch the Inbetweeners Movie. Ever.

If you’re not though do it’s funny as hell.

Zante trip imminent. Smelling salts for the parents please.

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This time next week the boy who has turned into a teenwolf and teeters on manhood is off to Zante. Yes the island that has featured on Sex, Sea and Suspicious Parents in which platoons of teenagers maraude the nightclubs and bars speed drinking, fighting and lying in pools of suspicious substances after thrusting their tongues down available throats. I feel sick.

 

It’s a right of passage I am told.

Yes. I understand.

I understand but it makes no odds. The lump of concrete in my belly is intact. So I have a few choices to make.

Shall I

  1. Drink for 7 days thus displaying the ‘if you cant beat them join them’ ethos?
  2. Find a crooked Dr and arrange an intravenous tranquiliser for the week?
  3. Check myself into a chanting retreat to be calmed in a Zen like fashion?
  4. Go too?

 

No. None of the above. I will have to display the mature adult persona. Being helpful, concerned yet happy to let him go to the land of the lamping, flashing and guzzling. AAAARRRGGHH. I may have to practice this technique as at the moment barricading the door so he cant get out of his room is still rather appealing.

 

Mature Adult impression
Mature Adult impression

Genuinely it’s not his lot I am worried about it’s the lunatic heavily tattooed, drunken casual spoiling for a fight and taking a dislike to a bunch of Scottish lads. Just for the hell of it.

Oh and the mopeds.

And the drink spiking.

And of course  the balconies.

There there’s alcohol poisoning.

Sunburn.

Drowning if swimming and gulping beer.

 

So what stage does parenting become a relaxing experience I asked my Mum who was 82 last week.

She smiled back ‘Never’.

Thanks for that Mum.

 

 

Anyway….just in case you’re interested

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How to avoid drink spiking

If your drink has been spiked it’s unlikely that you will be able see, smell or taste any difference.

The following steps may help prevent someone from spiking your drink:

  • Never leave your drink unattended.
  • Don’t accept a drink from someone you don’t know.
  • Keep an eye on your friends’ drinks.
  • Stay away from situations that you don’t feel comfortable with.
  • Let someone know where you are and what time you expect to be home, especially if you’re going on a date with someone you don’t know.
  • Don’t give out too much information to someone you’ve just met, such as your address.
  • It’s important to remember that if you’ve already been drinking, it may make you less aware of any danger.

It isn’t just women who are targeted. The most common reasons for drink spiking are:

  • for amusement
  • to be malicious
  • to carry out a sexual assault or rape
  • to carry out a theft

Never mind Puff Daddy, meet Puffy Slapper.

Two people walk past Elaine and I after the pedalo incident

The unfortunate thing about getting a fake tan before you go on holiday is that you get whiter as the days go on. I would be getting browner if I could go out in the sun. But alas after our pals 50th birthday on Sunday, we had to lie low on Monday as the sun was torturing the head. So yesterday started very well, fresh, rested and raring to go. Then as we walked through bar yesterday at mid-day we hear this ‘Hello Dave and Alison is that you?’ Well yes it was, so we joined them and that’s where we stayed until 9.30pm last night.
The unfortunate thing about going to bed at 9.30pm is that you are awake at 4am, dry and in need of water. If you have been in a bar all day with your pals though you don’t have any water in your apartment cos you forgot to buy it. So it is now 7.20am I have been up since 6am and am about to rush off buy a gallon of water and pour it down my throat at speed.

This will not have any effect on my, getting whiter by the moment, face but it will sure as hell help my liver.

The photographic evidence show last nights shenanigans hit a crescendo as Elaine and I draped ourselves over a pedalo determined to get a photo in which we didn’t look hunched, drunk, double chinned or just old. As we posed, David clicked the camera and the strain of keeping us two hefters up, made the whole pedalo lurch making a sickening plastic snapping noise and throwing Elaine and I to the ground laughing. Ah the sophistication. I am expecting a call from David Coulthard any day now, we are just the sort of people he would love to have on his private yacht in Cannes, I am sure of it. Still at least I haven’t got a tattoo. Yet.