A Ripping Yarn

We haven’t even checked in for our flight when I realise I’ve left Miriam way behind. Christ, I hope she doesn’t slow me up like this for the next five days. I turn back to see her doubled over.  Typical drama queen, she’s probably going to claim appendicitis or a heart attack. Unbelievable attention seeker.

I stroll back to her and she starts waving her hands at me. Is she looking for medication? Emergency help? I eventually understand that she’s pointing at me. I pat myself down, trying to work out what she’s gesturing at and finally the realisation hits me as my fingers touch skin where they shouldn’t. Holy god, there’s a massive rip in the arse of my combats. Our eyes lock and somehow we instinctively know what we need to do. Mir whips out the iPhone and I pose and preen, checking she’s getting the best possible angle. We are screeching with laughter, tears streaming down our faces, stomachs aching. The desk staff look on unamused. I guess they’ve seen it all before.

An uneventful flight, and two buses later and we get to our first destination – Serria. Great tapas, a few beers, a ridiculously cheap bill and we head to bed early. Our first day of walking lies ahead