At last the boat has docked, covering the forecourt with shade. I should really join the scramble to board, but the shade is welcome in this early evening heat.

I also should have booked a flight when Gemma said. Instead of leaving it too late. Again. Now all my friends are up in the sky and I'm bound for Alicante on a four-hour crossing. Have to get back to work tomorrow. Not a flight to be had for love nor money from Ibiza on a Sunday.

All so we could stay for the Roger Sanchez set at The Ministry last night. Worth it? Yeah. Sure. But today my feet ache and I just want to get home to see Stix, my dog.

It's not so bad on a boat once it gets going. Wind through my hair blows away the heat. Ibiza rhythms filtering through the sound system. People chilling. Chatting. Discussing steamy nights and new acquaintances. Some swaying to the beat.

No point in worrying about an inconvenient journey. It's the last day of my holiday. Might as well enjoy it. A drink at the bar and a siesta on deck should do the trick...