When she died, I was desolate. I had not realised just how much her death would affect me. I had something missing, a part of me that was no longer complete.
Hubby and I decided that we needed a change of scene and to get away from home, so we went looking for a last minute holiday. As we couldn't get a flight to Molyvos, we ended up going to Menorca. Now I was a little worried about our choice, as an earlier holiday to Majorca had not gone too well - think Blackpool in the Sun. I have no interest in going somewhere full of drunk Brits, eating British food - no thank you - not interested.
It was also our first holiday with a wheelchair. Now Menorca remains a conundrum to me. Although I am not a big fan of the resort we chose, nor the time of year we chose, I have very good memories of the holiday. We were there in October so everything was starting to shut down, think empty shop shelves (we were self catering) and few open restaurants etc. On the first night Elvis was singing in the hotel bar across the road- I knew we'd made a mistake. Yet, we enjoyed it. I could appreciate the quietness (with the exception of Elvis), the long flat promenade, the sea views from virtually everywhere in the resort.
From left: hidden paths to the beach, first view of the beach, lonely wheelchair, messages in the sand.
From left: old buildings from the trip to somewhere!, same place, trees bending to the wind.
From left: Sunset, a cold drink watching the sunset, another tree, waves
I am a real sea person. I just feel happier sat watching the sea.
So Menorca. Would I go back. Yes, the help we got at the airport with the wheelchair was the best we've ever had, but I would pick a different resort and try and see more of the island - oh and avoid Elvis.