Holidays- Cyprus By Petra

One dismal Monday afternoon I was sitting in the pub with my neighbour David, bemoaning the weather and feeling miserable, when David uttered the immortal words "let's go on holiday". Quicker than you can say "Linford Christie" we were at the travel agents choosing our destination. I wanted to travel immediately because I hate waiting for anything.

Post Office queues turn me into a raging psychotic. My instincts for some unfathomable reason screamed Cyprus (Pathos). It was the cheapest (£200 per person for B&B, twin beds with a balcony plus insurance). What a bargain!! And best of all we could fly the next day. Skipping happily away, my famous last words were "all I've got to find is my passport".

What ensued nearly found myself and my friend Cilla booked in for a spell at Rampton Psychiatric Hospital. I am currently in-between flats shall we say, so all my belongings are in bin liners located across various parts of Hull- the bulk however being at Cilla's. Fifteen hours later at four in the morning and we're still trawling through the bags looking for the bloody thing which means the difference between me having a fab hol abroad or hanging myself.

A blue spray can exploded which was then trodden in to all areas of the house. I was not popular. Then approximately 1 hour before I was due at the airport I found it. Tears were shed (of happiness that I was going away and would be out of everybody's hair for a week!) After a very expensive jar in Humberside Airport (two pounds seventy for a pint) we boarded and I was off to Cyprus!

The next week is in absolutely no chronological order due to the fact that bottles of spirits are only two pounds a go in Cyprus. A criminal offence not to purchase them. We arrived late at night after having been searched by the Cypriot air authorities (I could never be a drug trafficker - I have a face which says "please search me") then were duly escorted to our accommodation. We awoke to find ourselves in a beautiful apartment overlooking the Mediterranean. I was so excited I actually got up at 7.30 (a feat of engineering which only happened the once).

The complex was comprised of small white-washed apartments and a wonderful outdoor pool.

We decided to explore the local town and restaurants. Food was approximately the same price as Britain but what a difference! I fell in love with the man who served the most delicious mussels I have ever tasted - mussels in garlic sauce - but I cannot find anywhere his precise recipe. It was mouth-wateringly gorgeous.

Cyprus seems the most magical laid - back place you have ever been to. The hospitality we received from the locals was over-whelming. Although quite arid Cyprus' coastal and mountainous regions are stunning. I have no idea how their economy functions because they really do not care about money. "Pay me later" was the standard reply.

Day two and I decided to go and find Zen (the bloke who ran the watersports).I fancied doing some paragliding but Zen, however, was slightly unsure of what he did actually offer. Maybe if he had looked at my face when he was talking to me instead of various other parts he may have been able to concentrate (and believe you me I'm no Kate Moss). Thus decided to go jet-ski-ing. 20 minutes later and my nerves were shattered - he drove like a joy-rider on speed. I don't think health and safety were paramount in Zen's thoughts.

Nights were spent mixing with the locals. However, one barman nearly brought my life to an untimely end. He ran the Cypriot version of a J.K.Rowling novel. By some wizardry we managed to glug every drink of our desire yet he refused a penny. We eventually had to hide our glasses!!!!! Buy now pay later. (Please see alcohol awareness page). I was severely ill on the plane on the way back. I offered the stewards eight pounds for a bottle of water. Severe dehydration had set in.

Meanwhile back in Cyprus David and I invited some locals back to our apartment in the interests of racial integration. We must have apologised for Bush and Blair and for being British at least a million times, and for invading Cyprus in 1959. They probably thought we were from the UN on a placatory mission.

However, I digress. Unfortunately we were talking rather loudly in our apartment which resulted in David being frog-marched to reception and being told he should know better at his age. They then threatened to send us to the Cypriot version of Alcatraz if we didn't pull our socks up and behave. We hid for the rest of the week. I wish I could describe all the day trips to quaint hill-top villages that were on offer but it's just occurred to me that we didn't actually do anything except relax in the sun and eat mussels. However, I had one of the best holidays ever and would thoroughly recommend Cyprus. Petra Author. Email : Petra@thisisull.com

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