Some time ago I mused as to where we would go for our holidays this year.

It was a tossup between Cork or France.

We decided on France.

I We chose France for a couple of reasons.  One of course is the warmth.  I’m sick of shivering in this miserable country.  The other was to avoid that fucking obnoxious word – a ‘staycation’.  Where the fuck these ghastly words come from, I don’t know, but anyone who uses them in my presence gets a very swift smack of the boot in the gonads.

Another reason we had to arrange things this early is that we decided to bring Sandy with us from now on, and it takes a minimum of six months to get her passport.  So I duly brought her to the vet and she has now been inoculated with rabies.  Even if we change our minds and don’t go to France, it is always handy to have a rabid dog on hand when the election candidates call.

Planning a French holiday is very like doing a jigsaw.  The final picture of course is a decent holiday, but there are loads of bits and pieces that have to slot into the overall picture.

The main piece of the puzzle is the destination.  That’s done.  We chose the place because it not only said that pets were welcome, but it is not a ‘fuck off smokers’ place.  In fact it not only didn’t have a ‘no smoking’ clause but actually stated the smokers are welcome.  That’s my kind of holiday.

Another piece of the jigsaw is of course Sandy’s passport.  That is now in hand and should be sorted long before we go.

That leaves two pieces.  The main remaining piece is how to get there and back.  We always travel by Irish Ferries, because I like to drive my own car, and it means we can bring a respectable lump of luggage.  However, Irish Ferries are a very inconsiderate shower and sail their ships on really fucking inconvenient days.  Going over is fine.  They have a sailing on Friday that gets to France on Saturday morning, which means we arrive at our destination on Saturday evening when the holiday officially commences.  However, for the return trip, I have a choice between a Friday sailing from Roscoff or a Sunday sailing from Cherbourg.  Our holiday ends on a Saturday, so we have a problem.

When I go as far as France, I like to spin it out as long as possible so leaving a day early ain’t on the cards.  However, finishing our holiday on a Saturday when the ferry sails on Sunday leaves a wee hole in the jigsaw.  We have to stay somewhere on Saturday night.  Normally that wouldn’t be a problem as normally we wouldn’t have a rabid dog with us, but this time we do.  So now I have to work out what to do for Sunday night.  That is the final piece of the jigsaw.

I know there is a piece somewhere that will finish the jigsaw, and it’s just a matter of finding it.

It’s probably down the back of the couch.

That where most jigsaw pieces seem to end up.