THE QUACK

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It was when Hermione was spinning on the spot in her odd socks at Heathrow, that I questioned how I agreed to another group holiday.

 

This time, Amy, Hermione and I were off to Palma. Hermione had shown up in her outfit, incorporating her favourite colour, yellow – a yellow hat, yellow vans, and odd yellow socks. She had also announced that she had brought a packed lunch for the plane. If you haven’t read the post about the time she packed an egg sandwich for the Eurostar – I recommend reading it – then you’ll understand the sharp intake of breath Amy and I had on this announcement.

On the first day of our group holiday, we wandered around the old town searching for a ‘vegan-friendly’ tapas bar when we started giving each other Spice Girl names. We were, after all, 90’s kids, and this is the kind of thing women do on all-girls holidays.

Hermione was christened Feral Spice. I was Avocado Spice because apparently, I’m a little “pretentious.” (In my defence, I thought they were all going to bring checked-in luggage). And Amy became Normal Spice, because whenever she is asked what she’s looking for in a man, she raises her voice to say, “Someone normal!”

In an old bar off La Rambla, I decided to quiz Amy on what normal meant to her. Out came the notes app, and the list began:

• No ‘proper’ beard – can have stubble, but neat stubble.

• Age: 31-41

• Lives alone. No housemates.

• Must like sports (especially football) .

• No visible tattoos and no piercings whatsoever.

• They can have a dog, but they need to be able to leave it at home. (so no, they can’t have a dog).

• No happy campers (not going to sleep in a tent or caravan EVER).

• Not into the arts (doesn’t mind seeing a play once a year, but that’s enough).

• Likes their family but can’t like their mum too much. 

• Doesn’t take selfies.  

• Not into nerdy stuff: Lord of the Rings, Star Wars, train spotting, astronomy…

• Not too loud or too quiet.

• No scarves.  – Amy feels that if a man is over-prepared for the weather (i.e. holding a huge umbrella or wearing a scarf, this makes him less attractive). Basically, they’re not allowed to feel the weather.

• Relatively attractive.

• Funny, but don’t overdo the puns. 

“What if he has a criminal record?” Hermione asked.

Amy paused before saying, “What was the crime?” 

“Erm…manslaughter?”

Amy paused again, then said, “how long ago did he do it?”

I chipped in. “….So the guy can’t have a beard, but it’s cool if he accidentally killed somebody?”

• A criminal record is ok (within reason).

• Can be divorced – but not ideal. Certainly no kids. 

• Must have their own hobbies – golf is fine.  

• They can play an instrument, but under no circumstance are they allowed to serenade her.

• Nice-ish car 

• An appropriate sensible haircut – nothing long and luscious, and certainly no topknots.

• Can believe in God, but are not allowed to express this. (No praying).

• Glasses are ok, but the glasses must be sensible – no ‘out-there’ frames. 

Safe to say…Amy is a little picky.

Our holiday continued. We took a bus along the mountains, Feral Spice went into the sea, and I continued to drag my impatient friends from tapas menu to tapas menu in search of something vegan. It was all going so well until the last day…

I was packing my white and black capsule wardrobe into my huge suitcase, when I realised I hadn’t seen my passport for quite some time.

From there, it all fell apart. I searched every corner of every room, every cupboard, and even the fridge, all whilst crying. Feral Spice called the airport to see if anything was handed in.

“Nothing. They have nothing!” she yelled.  “I guess we have to go to the police station now!”

So, I was carried to the police station.

“He looks normal,” Feral Spice whispered loudly to Normal Spice.

The policeman raised his eyes for a moment before continuing to write out my missing report. I, meanwhile, tried to rub out the black splodges around my eyes and did my best to smile at the tanned Spanish man in the tight blue uniform.

After he stamped a piece of paper aggressively, it became apparent that nothing had been handed in.

I was about to run back to the house to continue the hunt before Feral Spice insisted that I should have some avocado to cheer me up….

When we got back, I unpacked and repacked my bag for the fifth time, searched behind the toilet, under the bed, and plunged my hand into the bin. 

…and then Normal Spice called my name in a way that I knew she had found it….it was by the toaster.

And that’s how my new spice name became… Hysterical Spice. 

(If you think you could be Mr Normal Spice or know someone who is, message me. )

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