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I’ve just come back from a week in Ibiza, where my romantic comedy, “Mucho Caliente!” is set. While I was there, I was lucky enough to be interviewed by the editor of “Ibiza Style”, one of the island’s glossy magazines. They even sent a photographer to where I was staying to take photos of me! We’re talking a real photoshoot, with different outfits, push-up bra, mucho hair flicking, sad attempts at smoldering, sexy sideways glances, everything! I haven’t seen any of the photos yet, but I’m keeping my fingers crossed there will be some nice ones. And if worst comes to worst, they can always Photoshop me into glossy, smooth, streamlined fabulousness, right?! Please tell me they can…
Anyway, apart from promoting my book in trendy locations, being interviewed, and being pursued by paparazzi (haha!), I had a lovely, relaxed, very floppy time in Ibiza. The winter has been unusually rainy; the islanders were all moaning about the endless bad weather (they should come and live in Switzerland…). Admittedly, it was pretty wet while I was there too, which was a bit of a shame, but bad weather is definitely a relative thing!
I’d never been to Ibiza so early in the season, and couldn’t believe how lush and green the island was. The countryside was stunning, with mimosa trees in full bloom, and wild flowers skipping across the fields, tickling old stone walls, enjoying a multicolored fiesta. The day before I flew home (unfortunately, earlier than originally planned due to unforeseen circumstances…), my friends and I went for a long walk along the cliff top behind the village of Santa Ines. It was a fresh, smoky-blue day, with more bad weather loitering moodily offshore, ready to roll in at sundown. We strolled along an old, rocky, goat-path, high above a smooth, blue-velvet sea, peppered with gorse bushes ( at least, I think they were gorse bushes. Definitely a gorse bush relative!) proudly presenting pretty pink flowers. The olive trees looked rested, and the fig trees were just coming into leaf. We stroked clumps of wild lavender in full bloom, plucking dark blue strands, pinching them between our fingers and breathing in their dusty, old-fashioned scent. We reached a lookout point and stood there, high above the sea, feeling lucky, lucky, lucky.
And then we drove home and had a nice cup of tea.
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