I really hate Winter.
I hate the cold, the dark, the damp and the dreariness of it all. And it’s even worse outside.
At this time of year, when it is fucking miserable outside, I find it very hard to believe that a mere six months ago I was wandering around in short sleeved shirts and rubbing sweat out of my eyes. After all, at half four in the afternoon I would expect at least a further six hours of daylight if this were June. But it isn’t and I’m sitting in the dark and all wrapped up against the chill.
I need something to cheer me up.
I need a holiday.
It is, after all is said and done, six months since my last one. We made a big mistake this year with our holidays. We went in June. I grant you it was a good holiday, with lovely weather and all that, but it meant that when we came back we had the long haul into Winter and a longer haul to Spring to look forward to. That is not good. In previous years we took our holidays in September which made the Winter much shorter.
The problem is that I now need a holiday, and I doubt I can last through to next September so I’ll have to book for June again. And that means we will have the same problem as we had this year.
Herself wants to go back to France as she likes the warmth. I fancy another break in Cork because they speak my language.
There is only one solution.
Cork in June and France in September.
I like the sound of that.