With its broad pavements and shiny restaurants adorned with signs sponsored by Coca Cola, there's nothing rustic or especially Spanish about Figueretas. But there's good food to be hadAndalucian Gazpacho (at 'ALL Restaurant' on the beach front) is my pick of the bunch, with it's fresh twang of the ripest tomatoes packed with a vitamin left hookalthough Big Dave assured me the grilled fish is as close to Omega 3 heaven as you can get without burgling a Holland and Barrett warehouse.
As hi-octane it gets is a lazy-assed, flouncey volleyball game played by people who are quite possible still asleep, which makes the beach a good chill out option for getting away from the parched bustle of Ibiza town and notching up some decent, undisturbed flopping time in the powdery sand. Although for some, 'flopping time' is a bit too literal for comfort
3.08pm. I'm sitting on the beach, minding everyone's business, engaged in a slumbering bout of people watching - when something catches the corner of my eye. Please don't do it. Please don't do it. Please. Don't. Do. It. Oh blimey, oh for the love of sweet babyoh no, oh cripes, she's done it. The lady must be in her seventies. It's a sight that could be equated to being jabbed in the eyeballs with grissini. When she un-pops the fastener on that bra, out tumble two disparately proportioned piles of wrinkled leathery bosom matter; like a couple of those slinky things that go down the stairs, but made of elderly flesh - unraveling in rice puddingy lumps, down towards her knees.
On Figueretas beach, there are nudes. Antique nudes.
I'm sure for them and their over-burdened underwear, it's delightfully liberating - to feel the wind aerating the innards and outards of their nethers - but for me it's perturbing enough to put me off my ice cream. What you don't want on a beach holiday is to be worried that your Solero is about to reappear all over the place. Poor Big Dave had to go up to the room to have a lay down, it affected him so badly. He said it's his 'Nam. (Or did he say it's his Nan?)
If you can overt your eyes from Leather World, and think of anything but England, you'll be just fine, squinting a relaxed eye on that yacht over there, or watching the gentle waves claw at the beach's edge with a hissy drawl as gulls swoop and swoon in friendly gusts in a fresh blue backdrop of glorious summer sky. Breathe deeply, this is the life read more
