From kissing Spanish barmen to groping women’s breasts, this week Alexis Thompson reveals all of the juicy gossip from her girlie holiday in Majorca...

As I sit here typing in a stuffy, artificially lit office, my mind keeps wandering back to two days ago when I was sat on a beach basking in glorious sunshine under cloudless blue skies.

I was holidaying in Majorca with my two friends, Liz and Jen, who like me are both single girls with flirtatious personalities and a love of cheap red wine.

I’m sure you’re already beginning to imagine the kinds of girlie holiday-type scenarios we found ourselves in. And, let me tell you, they were far worse then the things we got up to when we first visited the island 10 years ago, as naive, fresh-faced 18-year-olds.

A decade on and we were back here again but this time avoiding the tacky resort of Magaluf and opting for the more upmarket Alcudia.

I’d like to say we were returning as wise, mature adults - but that would be a blatant lie. If anything, I think we’ve regressed, and what’s worse is we now get stupidly drunk after only three glasses of wine. In our youth we could drink copious amounts of alcohol before getting slaughtered.

My friend Liz was the worst, one glass and she’d start giggling away to herself, turning everything we said into some sort of sexual innuendo. This is what happens when you’re sexually frustrated, I told her.

Half a bottle of Rioja and a shot of peach schnapps later, we became fascinated with the size of each other’s breasts. Being the type of girls we are, we don’t get them out that often (well, apart from my friend Jen who’s always got her knockers on display), so seeing each other let it all hang out in bikini tops and low-cut dresses made us somewhat curious.

As you’d imagine, groping each other’s bosoms in crowded bars certainly caught the attention of the Spanish barmen but there was one in particular who took a fancy to Jen.

After plying us with several shots of strange-looking green stuff at the bar, he made his move and, before long, the pair were all over one another. Me and Liz tried to distract ourselves from the gruesome display of public affection by playing pool with a bunch of Moroccan men but I was so drunk I could barely hold the cue.

Eventually they stopped when Jen realised that a) the Spanish barman was a little creepy and b) he was also far too young. Still, she gave us something to laugh about for the rest of the holiday.

While on holiday I think we all realised how content we were being single. I mean, if we had boyfriends we probably wouldn’t have gone on a girlie holiday in the first place and, if we did, then we certainly couldn’t have pulled Spanish barmen or touched each other’s breasts - what would our boyfriends have said?

This holiday made me grateful that I didn’t have a boyfriend and instead I could spend quality time with two people who will be in my life forever. And, while I was in Majorca, I wouldn’t have swapped single life for the world, or my breast-grabbing best friends either.