"We made this mistake before" I said, "and ended up leaving after a day!"
Could you not remember the fiasco that was the 'No Children' resort? We had decided we needed a break when our children were still young. It did not say 'Over 60's only' or 'wheelchair archery every afternoon' but it really should have!
Now you have booked us a long weekend at an Adults Only resort, and I was pretty pissed. I could think of far better things to do with a few days away.
You replied that "This is not the same thing at all. Just trust me and don't book anything else for that weekend."
Unconvinced, but prepared to give you the benefit of the doubt, I changed the subject and got dinner ready. Then it was the usual weekday routine -- catch up on the computer, shower, and chill to the latest TV series we had been watching. It is a good way to wind down at the end of a busy day but it's a shame we are both always so tired in the week. Once again, I can think better things to be doing, if only we could keep our eyes open.
That was a few weeks ago and now it's here. We both finished work on Thursday, packed simply for the weekend, and settled in for that same routine.
... Friday ...
We set off early on Friday, while the roads are still quiet, and head for the coast. We don't even like beach holidays, but you promised that there's plenty to do in the area, once we have had enough of people watching by the sea. Again, I trust you but am not totally convinced by the idea.
A few stops later, to take pictures and walk around a bit, and I see it is already late afternoon. "Nearly there" you say, as we stop a few hours later at a small general store by the side of the road. We buy some essentials including milk and bread (is it going to snow?) and the bare necessities. With these and what we brought with us, we have the basics to survive and, you say, we'll probably eat out more than in.
As we approach the "resort" there is a sign directing down a track that is not even a well-made road. I hope this isn't going to be a run-down dump, or that you think you're getting me camping! Going over a hill, though, I see some individual beach "houses". They're too large to be called huts, but it's obvious they are little more than the simplest accommodation. Following signs, you take us to "Chalet 6" and park at the back. Taking our bags and groceries in, we find a surprisingly well-appointed bedroom with great views of the beach and ocean. There is a bathroom attached to it with a shower, a separate loo, and a door to outside. Exploring further, the door is to an outdoor shower. This seems a good idea, to not get sand in the main bathroom, coming back from the beach.
The living room contains two comfortable looking sofas, a small TV, some bookshelves with a few books and games, and a fireplace ready for a real log fire. To one side there is a functional kitchen area, but we won't be able to do much more than very basic cooking as it is small and has only two electric rings and a microwave. Everything is clean and tidy though. The view from the living room and bedroom are of the beach maybe fifty feet away, and then the ocean. Sunrise should be impressive here! With floor-to-ceiling windows in both these rooms, that open right up too, this is starting to look like somewhere we can relax at least.
We unpack and I make a cup of tea. It's a good thing we brought our own! A couple of brochures are on the counter in the kitchen. You grab one and I look at the other. "Resort Amenities" it says, sounding slightly too enthusiastic about itself. I assume you're reading the same things so I just glance through it. "Onsite restaurant, Private beach, convenience store, beach-side bar, ...". Also, some warnings about there being no lifeguards and that the site is "off the beaten track".
You walk through to the bedroom still reading the other brochure, saying you're going to shower after all the driving. I sit and watch the ocean and almost fall asleep.
When you come back, you're dressed in light trousers and a loose shirt, with a lot of buttons undone. "What do you fancy to eat tonight?" you ask. "The bar will be closed but there's a restaurant. Fancy trying that?"
I am more tired than hungry but would be game to try it. You look at me and suggest getting something as take-out. I pick something from the menu, and you collect it. By the time we have eaten, and I have showered, I'm ready to sleep, so we get an early night. It isn't long before your touch wakes me up, and then makes me even more tired. A good start to the weekend! I go to the bathroom and come back to bed. I am asleep before you get back in bed and I'm pretty sure we both slept right through. Either way, we wake up to find the sun streaming into the bedroom from across the ocean and over the beach. It's a beautiful morning!
... Saturday morning ...
"Did you know we slept with the curtains open?" I ask. "It's a good job nobody was passing last night while we were at it."
"I doubt anyone would be, but we wouldn't have known if they had." you reply, with a dirty grin and wink. "Maybe tonight we'll get lucky." With an even bigger grin. "So, do you fancy a little relaxation on the beach this morning?"
We agree on breakfast first, so I make tea and you make toast. We sit and eat looking out across the beach. Although it is close, some low dunes and shrubs narrow the view, so we really don't see much of the sand. That makes it even more unexpected when I see the first other person since we arrived, strolling past. She is wearing a broad-brimmed straw hat, presumably to keep the sun out of her eyes, and sunglasses, but that is all she is wearing!
I look at you and ask if you saw what I did. Teasing again you reply that you could hardly miss it. "Do you want to go sit on the beach now" you ask. I wonder why!
You put cups and plates in the sink, grab a blanket and our sunglasses, take my hand, and lead me outside. It's a good job I put on a long shirt, or I'd be naked apart from panties. I am surprised you go out with only your light trousers again. When you said to pack light, I did not think you meant only one set of clothes.
