And The Stars, in the Sky, Don't mean nothing

When I was 17, just before I started my first proper full time job, I went on holiday with my mam and da, and some family friends to a gorgeous villa in Corfu. (Or Corrphew as one member of our party liked to call it).

The villa was heavenly. Plenty of space, and balcony all the way round the building.

We socialised at a hotel just up the road, and whilst in there partaking of the Ouzo and the stylish Greek Dancing, one of the waiters was instantly smitten by my good looks and stunning personality. Very Weirdly, he asked first my Dad, and then my Uncles permission to take me out, to which amidst much sniggering they agreed.

The next night he turned up to take me for a "beautiful meal". Humph.

We wandered down the road to the next little village and installed ourselves at a table for 2 in a restaurant belonging to his friend. Stefanos, for that was his name, advised me that he would order for us.... (Big mistake mate, especially when you are with such a fussy bitch like me).

Weirdly enough I enjoyed the main course. Veal... evil I know, but boy it tastes good! Stefano told me he had ordered me a massive surprise for my dessert. And boy was I surprised when it turned up. It was half a frikking watermelon, liberally smitting with seeds.

Yes, I am the one with the Seed problem and oh my god, it was rampant then too. I have never felt so ill in my life, espcially as he insisted in watching me enjoy every mouthful... I had to drink almost half a bottle of ouzo in order to get it down me.

Men! What are they like!

I still won't eat these - but i did take a big deep breath and bought one for Si!