I cycled back from the beach in the late afternoon up the hill in 30 degrees celsius.  Toni had kindly leant me his orange bike for the weekend and I was enjoying every moment of using it.  ‘Why don’t you pop into Nikki Beach on your way home, it just opened?’ said my friend P.  ‘Just take a left at S’Argamassa and follow the road round’.  ‘Yes, why not’.  It’s about time for a cuppa I thought.

Past those red earth fields in hazy sunshine, this time with the cacao trees standing still in the August air, their fruit scattered beneath on the ground and that particular bittersweet scent that comes from them at this time of year.  Drawn out by the heat, it’s a little like you can feel when you know there’s not much more of summer to come.

Taxis drove past me – fast – for the rush is on now to satisfy the needs of the Islander’s pockets for the winter to come – and therefore the tourists that come to pack in as much as they can on their annual sunshine break.

‘Where could I put my bicycle please?’ I said smiling at the valet who stood outside this salubrious establishment.  ‘Here, let me take it for you’.  I burst out laughing as I glanced at the Ferrari beside me and the Bentley next to it.  ‘No seriously, for real?!  I mean this is a bicycle!’  He laughed too and stressed that it was okay.  ‘Do you want the lock?’ I asked incredulously.  ‘No, no need, enjoy your drink’.

I sat at the circular bar and looked around.  White naturally, big beds, a highly conspicuous pool area where VIPs could clearly see and be seen.  I noted the ginormous fans revolving slowly above large wooden dining tables half inside, half outside.  The atmosphere was one of being on show but aiming for discretion simultaneously. The dress code was confidence – manifested in any way it came providing it looked suitably beachy and nonchalant.

Five minutes into a six euro pot of Earl Grey tea, I heard my name being called.  Looking up I saw my new friend the valet: ‘I need the keys to your bicycle lock; I need to move it’ he said.  I grinned from ear to ear: ‘Again, really?!’

I texted P:  ‘The valet has taken my bicycle, should I tip him when I leave?’  ‘The cheek of him’ came the response.  ‘Give him a euro – no more’. I got chatting to the boy beside me. ‘How long have you had your MacBook Pro?’ I asked, currently obsessed as I am about all things Apple.  ‘Three years’ he replied. ‘It’s great for video editing which is what I do, although right now I can’t get into the internet’.  ‘The internet is always elusive in Ibiza – even at Nikki Beach it appears’ I said.

We talked on as the sky grew pink and then a deep orange. ‘I’m going to have to do a Cinderella now, my bike’s got no lights and I need to get home before it gets dark’ I explained. ‘Keep in touch’ said Valentino as I picked up my rucksack and started to walk out.

I pressed a euro into the valet’s hand.  ‘It’s not necessary’ he laughed.  ‘But thank you!’ I said as I untethered my vehicle to ride carefully home before night fell.

I couldn’t sleep all night – not when such a significant arrival was imminent.  Eventually I roused myself at 8am to greet the day.

I opened the curtain.  Oh dear – a cloudy sky for the first time in five days, and most unusual here.  Oncle was coming from France on a last minute whim to escape the rain hail and snow there and I hoped things would improve.  Warmly clothed, I cleaned up the little house, swept away the pine needles from out front,  went to the shop to get water and cereal and picked a few flowers for my guest’s bedroom on the way back.

‘Have you landed yet?’ I texted, followed by instructions to get to me.  No response for a while then the ring of the phone to alert me to a new sms.  ‘On my way’ it read, followed by ‘Here!’ about 30 minutes later.

I walked down to reception breaking into a bit of jog as I spotted the familiar blue shirted sight of my companion for the next five days. We greeted each other, hopped into the hire car and I took him to my abode.

‘Well this is lovely!’ he exclaimed.  ‘So nice, so pretty with everything you need – a kitchen here, the bathroom, a table – and the beds look very comfortable.  I brought some fruit and water – we must keep drinking that , it’s very important you know’.  I got out my new espresso machine to make some coffee whilst Oncle chopped a watermelon up for his breakfast. The familiar percolating sound a few minutes later and some hot milk produced his first Spanish latte a la Bungalow 103.  We caught up.  I introduced him to Mavis (for that is La Bicycletta’s name) and my neighbours;  filled him in on the story so far.

Stepping outside I felt a soft drop of something:  ‘Oh, gosh, I think it’s beginning to rain!’ I said.  ‘For goodness sake!  I didn’t get up at 5am, suffer Ryanair and book all this to get rain and cold – it’s absolutely baltic!’  ‘I know’ I replied, ‘You’ve obviously brought the weather with you – I think I’m going to have to put another sweater on’.  We stood opposite each other drinking water and giggling.  ‘Best to have a nap, I think’.  ‘Yes, and by the time you wake, hopefully the sun will have come out’.

We each retired to our well appointed bedrooms and I lay down with my cosy blue blanket over me, sounds of the birds chirping away outside and that particular stillness that comes with siesta time – and in this case, a light drizzle.

‘Have you got a hot water bottle?!’ Oncle shouted out through the wall.