Confessions of a Holiday Rep - My Hideous and Hilarious Stories of Sun, Sea, Sand and Sex. Cy Flood

were skating on thin ice. You never really knew what you could do to help out in these situations until they confronted you. The term ‘thin ice’ is quite apt for Ibiza really, as the pavements that adorned the resorts up and down the island could all have been mistaken for ice. They were made of the shiniest tiles, which were as slippery as hell. Goodness knows what the people who designed these pavements were thinking about. I am sure that Torvill and Dean had a hand in it somewhere. Many people found themselves on the seat of their pants as they tried to walk up a hill in the resort. In spite of our protestations, new streets that were then under construction were being made in exactly the same way. One word of advice: if you don’t want to end up on your arse, wear rubber-soled shoes when you go out walking on this island.

      Ibiza was a great season, and I thoroughly enjoyed it all. I went there to work just as the dance and drug culture was taking hold of parts of the island and really grabbing the imagination of Europe’s youth. I managed to avoid any kind of addiction to any illegal substances that were on offer. I found instead that I had become addicted to the lifestyle. The island had left me on a high. My appetite was now well and truly whetted. I had only joined for six months to have a laugh really, but now I found myself thinking, Where shall I go next?