Old clubbers never die
They just go to Ibiza and spend more. In The Times Annabelle Thorpe slips on her slingbacks.
THE air is warm and balmy and we’re sitting on our balcony, eating paprika crisps and swigging ice-cold water. Below us, girls in skimpy vest tops and boys in shiny trainers are skittering along, giggling and chatting; mopeds whip past them, taxis scoop them up and whisk them off to the bright lights of the old town on the other side of the bay. click for more
<small>[ 14 March 2004, 05:20 AM: Message edited by: Stuart Sweeney ]</small>