Time dilation
Herself and I were chatting about holidays the other night.
It’s a topic that arises occasionally. Usually it starts with some wishful thoughts about a break away and usually ends in a drop of reminiscence. A holiday would be nice but there are practical issues which sort of get in the way.
Anyhows, on the subject of holidays, a few years ago I went into Google Earth and stuck little pins into every place we had holidayed in since 1975. Each pin is stuck in the spot we stayed in and tagged with the year. It makes for a pretty little picture.
So I opened up my little map and I had what may be loosely described as a surprise. Our last holiday was in Cork back in 2015. Eight years ago? Fuck! I didn’t think it was that long.
Even more surprising is that our last trip to France was twelve years ago. I would have guessed around six or seven at the most. Where the hell does the time go?
Naturally, with all the current entertainment we’re getting from RTE at the moment [they have never been this entertaining before…] my thoughts turned to my departure from the place. That was twenty two years ago. Twenty two years? To put that in perspective, in my first twenty two years I had been born, gone through infancy, childhood, primary, secondary and third level education and was into my third job [in RTE!]. That is a hell of a lot of growing up in the same space of time that I have been retired?
All I have managed to do in the last twenty two years is to go a bit grey.
.
Don’t be modest.
You facilitated Martin Scriblerus, nurtured Penny as well as hur indoors, given us an insight into life in your corner of the Emerald Isle.
For all of which I am very grateful.
Go on yer sel, big yin.
Senora O’Blene and I haven’t been away since 2008, and we just love staying around our village, with the people we’ve known for over forty-five years! Our passports ran out over ten years ago! At this last break, (the Senora’s 60th), it was a week in my business partner’s cottage up North, we could take our dog and walk for miles in lovely landscapes, but the embuggeration of all those arrangements for going away just don’t seem interesting any more, so we stay here, take our dog and walk for miles in lovely landscapes in Kent, and enjoy tinctures in the garden!
I suppose I’d like to re-live the other holiday we had six years before, when the restaurants of Italy took a battering, but since the family left home, the appeal has dwindled! Anyway, who’ll look after the garden, the forty-five tomato plants, the greenhouse, the flowers, the fruit bushes, the, the, the…
Your map’s a great idea; we kept diaries for every holiday and still read them!
And I bet I’m greyer than you!
I suppose the only reason I mention holidays is a small wish for a break of scenery. The main reasons I hanker after France are the weather [the heat is great for the old bones], the scenery and surprisingly enough, the driving. I just love driving in France. I’m not even quite sure why. Less traffic? Better roads? Better signage? Better drivers? It’s a hard one to answer.