blonde poker forum

Picture the scene. Two weeks in the sunny Costa Del sol. Unbelievable apartment high up in the hills overlooking a beautiful golf course with a great view all the way to the sea. The holiday has been fab. I relaxed fully for the first time in two and a half years swam lengths every day, played with the kids, talked future plans with the missus and managed to get through the following books in the first eleven days........two by Michael Connelly, a Bill Bryson and Tony Holdens latest.

Then out of the blue I get a text. "Home game at my place tonight. Kick off at 8.30pm. Here is the address" etc. etc."

Hmm......a game in Spain with some of the existing and past members of the party poker crew. I think after eleven days Anne Marie had basically had enough of me and couldn't wait to push me out of the door. So off I tootle.

The trusty Opel Zafira purring like a tractor on account of it being a diesel. The address typed into my little Tom Tom go. I head toward Alcaidesa a small village with a great view of the Rock.......seems apt. Diligently pulling off the A7 I start following the SATNAV. Now those of you who have driven in Spain will know that once you come of the main roads most of the side roads have assorted potholes. I skirt around these pitfalls and following the faithful green arrow on the Tom Tom get myself stranded axle deep in a very soft sanded beach. It is 7.30pm. There do not seem to be many people about. Oh my word. What the hell am I going to do? I mean the game kicks off in an hour. More importantly how the hell did a 44 year old relatively intelligent sales manager get stuck in a beach. The phone is getting no signal it seems like a good time to panic...........

and then out of knowhere I hear the rasp of a trail bike with two Spanish youths on it. I need them to stop but I am not sure if I knock them off the bike whether they will then help me. Nothing for it. I stand in the middle of the path, looking as wide as possible (not too difficult). They stop and help. No good. The car will not move. Four more arrive. All young and local. Still no movement of car. We flag down a car with four more people in it. We dig under the stuck wheels and place large rocks. Eight of us push. Juan Carlos, I think that was his name, revs the engine and in one great surge the car shoots backwards onto the solid path again. I fall flat on my face but not before a large tearing noise informs that the shorts I am wearing are now in bits and my rather natty underwear is in bits.

I drive slowly back the way I have come steadfastly ignoring the TomTom's advice to turn round. I am shaking. I am covered in sand. My shorts are ripped to bits. I am truly fed up and on top of that I can't get hold of my poker host to get new directions. I stop the car on the main road and try and desand the small beach that has got inside. Go home or find the game............come on no real question to that one. Eventually my mate Sander picks up all the texts and gives me new directions. I had a most wonderful evening and would like to thank Sander, Sarah, JP, Pru, Bill and Stuart for the warmth and hospitality.

It was a winning evening and just goes to prove that no matter what is going on around you before you sit at the table........the cards don't know

great story

Great story Snatty. Can I suggest the subtitle "Son of a Beach"?

lol nice story Snatty :D

HOld on- what happened about the fact your shorts and underwear was in tatters?  More info please.... ;popcorn;

Okay so the underwear was not too bad but the shorts were a mess........just pretended I was in swimming trunks. I have no doubt that this had little or no effect on anybody in the room other than me and it positively galvanised my game.........hmm must try it in Luton

Not with their dress code!!!

apparently it is fine as long as you wear formal shoes