We made it

Everything was sorted in the morning, we took a quick flight to Ibiza and then a dash to the ferry for Formentera. There was no point hanging around because the lovely French Air traffic control were on strike and Mike had to detour around them, delayed by over 12 hours. He was somewhere in Dusseldorf eating fab Turkish food, so that was reassuring.

It seems the Italian theme to Formentera extends to the amazing ice cream parlour in Sant Fransesc and to at least one of the taxi drivers. He wasn't sure where we were going (bear in mind the island is tiny!) so we asked him to drop us off to do some shopping on the way. The next taxi driver was fab and gave us the low down on the area. We raced to the beach and the boys rolled in the Poseidon. Pigs in muck! And that extra black line on the edge of the sand means that the beach is deserted. Heaven. Dinner outside our lovely apartment and we fell into bed exhausted.