PETE CREEPS INTO MECKY’S TENT
And now to titivate the jaded masses, some naughty News. Although old age is hanging over me like a clammy cloak I refuse to bow down. My lovely wife and I are off for a week to the Red Sea. It may be red with embarrasment after we finish cavorting on the beach, but who cares. Life is for the loving.
We are booked into the Oberoi Sahl Hasheesh Hotel which certainly sounds promising. It looks utterly beautiful in the brochure but I expect it to be a lot bigger in reality. I’m polishing up my snorkel and hope to have a face to fin encounter with a pilchard or two. I’m also packing my Sheikh Rattlanroll outfit so that I can creep into Mecky’s boudoir and surprise her with my scimitar. But enough of these ancient gags, it’s holiday time. And if you’re having a Spring, Summer or Autumn break, try and avoid Heathrow Terminal 5. Yet another reason why I always fly to Birmingham.