Sept 4th

Suddenly, I was in the blazing sunshine, somewhere on the south coast of Spain. The sun was low, painting everything a pale yellow, the silhouettes of Courto and Butterfly were before a sizable crowd. He was on bended knee, she was elated.
“Right,” he said, “I’m off to get the ring”.
She turned and urged him;
“Keep it under a tenner, boy.”
I awoke to see Butterfly smiling at me from the next bed, blissfully unaware that she had been made out to be a cheap bitch in my dream-world. If only she… Ow! My head! What WERE we up to last night? With low gusto on my part, we got ready to take ourselves off to the countryside, the herbaceous forest air cleansing my system as we went. Courto and I drank pure water from a stream, Courto devising an unconvincing “pagan ritual” to go along with it. Then we went to a swamp in the midst of some woods, were we circled for hours, went slightly insane, lost our map and then whinged snotty-nosed into our camcorder. No - wait - that was The Blair Witch Project. The only witch we saw was a one made of wood, hanging menacingly amongst the trees – er… just like in The Blair Witch Project. We had a wee swim in a serene but Guinness-black pond, which for all the world reminded me of the water-tank by my Grandmother’s bungalow; a terrific, smelly abyss. As night set in, we headed to Butterfly and Bluelita’s Auntie’s gaff, where we had a late-night sauna session, cooling ourselves off by intermittent dips in the pond outside. Steam rose from our heated bodies as we swam, and it rose like the briefest of clouds into the moonlit sky. I saw a shooting star there and I made a wish, but damn it, Miss Knowles still hasn’t rung. The only knickers I was getting into was when I put on Courto’s boxers by accident afterwards. However, my pores utterly cleansed, I had a gargantuan feed, and then a soft welcome sleep.
We were on the Spanish coast again, Courto was holding a small potato snack for some reason. Then I realized it was a hula-hoop, and he was putting it on Butterfly’s finger.
“It’ll do,” she said, “but if this is on my finger, we’ll have no grub at the reception!”