Holidays time
This is one of the times of year where I head off on holidays.
In the past when we went to France quite a bit, we tended to go for three or four weeks in September, when it’s a little cheaper, the kids are back at school and the roads are a bit quieter it also beautifully stretched the Summer so Winter wasn’t too long.
Herself was beginning to mutter about long distances though, and there was the dog to consider too, so we switched to West Cork instead and for some reason we went for the first two weeks of June. Again it was off peak season and the weather was usually good [we Irish call it the Leaving Certificate Heatwave, as that’s when all the poor brats are sitting their exams].
Last year we didn’t bother with a holiday at all and just stayed at home. This year is the same.
Having not taken a holiday and not missing it has taught me something about holidays.
Normally we stay in rented accommodation which costs a fair packet. Then there is all the hassle of packing and changing the locks on the house so the daughter can’t move in. And when we get there everything is strange. I like my own mug and my own kitchen implements. I like my cozy armchair where the cushion is permanently shaped to fit my arse.
On holidays I worry about breaking something that isn’t mine. I am permanently aware that I am in someone else’s gaff and that is tiring. Even simple things like getting rid of rubbish are complicated because usually the accommodation doesn’t come with bin collection so I have to drive to the local dump, or the nearest ditch, whichever is nearest. And there is that complete pain in the hole of having to clean the place before heading home again
And then there is the weather. Having gone to all that trouble and having paid an arm and a leg I frankly get pissed off if the sun isn’t splitting the rocks every day. I resent every fucking cloud in the sky, no matter how small it is.
Staying at home is different.
It costs no more than normal life. Everything is familiar. I know that if I turn on the kitchen tap I’m not going to be drenched because the pressure onn holidays is normal whereas here it is almost nonexistent. I know where everything is kept and if I break something then so what. If it rains I stay indoors and if it’s sunny I move outdoors. I don’t have to visit supermarkets and I know that bins are collected on a Friday morning. I know there isn’t a change in scenery but the scenery here is just fine.
In fact the only benefit I can find in a holiday is that while I am away I’m not constantly reminded of all the jobs that have to be done around the place. I don’t have to worry about cutting the grass of fixing the roof or uprooting trees.
On the whole though, I think holidays are overrated.
For the next two weeks: fuck the grass and the roof.
Our bin collection is sometimes on Monday – although any other day will do, according to our local council. Fully agree with the idea that holidays are an overrated pastime. Since we moved to the seaside, where we always used to go at great expense, there is no pressure to look elsewhere for alternative amusements. Planning our forthcoming holiday, we decided here was good enough and so very much cheaper. Enjoy your rest, but keep posting!
The cost is a huge factor [on a pension] but I sometimes wondered if all the hassle of packing the car to the gills was worth the effort. And then you get home after your week or fortnight and everything is just back to normal, apart from the bank balance. France was the exception though and I still browse through the photographs and the memories.
Loved France, but working there was not fun Remember a cola and beefburger cost just over £5 in 1975. How much now? Went back a couple of years ago and found some lovely places to eat after – literally – fighting off the Greek restaurant owners trying to convince us their food was really French. Eventually settled for a Belgian place offering sensible food. Good fun, later we found a great place with a waiter straight out of the Addams Family. It is still possible to enjoy France – simply look around carefully.
Can you borrow a local farmer’s beast of burden and let the visiting grandchildren enjoy donkey rides in the back garden? Have you installed an ice cream machine in the kitchen so they and you can savour summer treats?
Where the Grandkids are concerned, I’m the beast of burden around here.
And I thought it was just me! All the organizing around a holiday is a pain in the neck. Also feel the same about eating out, as most of the time you could do a much better job yourself for half the price.
I never thought about changing the locks though.
“I never thought about changing the locks though.” An absolute essential, unless you want to find your central heating tank empty and the garden littered with empty beer cans and bottles. And I never knew that a barbecued goat could make such a mess of the lawn.
I’ll give your views some thought next week while I’m on my sunlounger, reading a good book and drinking an ice cold beer.
It’s been nice the last few days at home but the problem with England is that summer only lasts about a week usually…