Often enough when I'm at home, anywhere else seems a better place to be than home and then when I'm somewhere else I want to be back home again !
Strange that ! Or do you know what I mean ?
I guess holiday destinations lure you to them with false promises of adding something to life that's missing, only to let you down when you discover over and over again that where you end up is populated by people trying to scrape a living, full of resentment for the holidaymakers who can afford to rent their properties and with absolutely no interest in answering the same question from every guest , " And how did you end up here then ? " or sharing their life histories with an interloper or listening to another boring holidaymaker's life history...... except mine !
Being who I am and what I am, a leather bag and purse maker with a huge market stall and one of the last of the genuine makers who only sell their own work, I am often asked about my life and how I came to work in leather and where I got my sense of humour and understanding of the whole of human nature from to be able to write so many frankly brilliantly funny signs !
Poor buggers can be seen staggering away after an hour or two, deeply regretting opening their mouths in the first place ! Ha Ha Ha !
Anyway, despite my awful experiences and cynicism, the thought of another break makes me automatically say, "Book it ! It sounds great ! " whenever Shirley calls me through to tell me about an absolute bargain that she's found after searching the internet for as short a time as a week !
My encouragement is usually met with something like;
"I'm not asking you to tell me to book it cos if I like it I'll book it whether you like it or not and I wasn't asking for your opinion which wouldn't sway me one way or the other anyway as I was just showing you what I'd found and I'm not finished as that's only one of the places I can get a deal on and unless you've got any better suggestions you might as well get back to work as it's you who earns the money which you never let me forget though you seem to have conveniently forgotten that I worked my fingers to the bone for two years even when I was pregnant leaving you snoring your head off and you're always saying you can't get enough work done because of the children phoning for your help or the grandchildren wanting you round and it's time you gave up golf because you're always moaning that you can't stand the men and the men can't stand you and stopped wasting your time playing the guitar because you can't play and your voice is dreadful especially when it cuts through my telly from your room and wakes me so no wonder people talk when you play in pub sessions and I'll never know how you could think anyone wanted to listen to you droning and at your age you shouldn't need to start learning sport or an instrument when you have no talent whatsoever and you waste so much time doing them and they stop you working for much longer than cutting the lawn which I only ask you to do occasionally and which is a sad excuse for a lawn anyway if you've ever bothered looking at those weeds which you wasted all that money uselessly not managing to kill with that poison I told you not to buy from the garden centre because it would be so much cheaper in Wilkinson's and it was wasn't it and I'm sick of having to lose laptop time pulling those purple things out instead of letting them overwhelm the few blades of grass pathetically gasping for light cos I daren't ask you incase you have a strop and then sulk for three days and I really wish everything didn't fall on my shoulders like finding and booking holidays when I've got better things to do with my time!"
And I'd only said, " Book it ! It sounds great ! "
So, many years ago when she found a very nice sounding flat on the waterfront at ? for a week in November, I looked forward to it in as hopeful a way as I could, considering that I knew from past experiences that there would be a certain amount of stress involved, even before having to tell the owner that I wouldn't put a dog in it for an hour, let alone a week !
For a start, catching a ferry from ? which is a long way from home, requires researching and booking the cheapest Travelodges available for both outward and return journeys on the route. This usually takes a week !
I have to phone the selected Travelodges several times during the months before we leave to make sure that they know about our booking and to check how long the corridors are. ( Another story altogether for another Blog ! )
We never buy cancellation insurance for the ferries and so every weather and shipping forecast for the whole of Europe have to be carefully watched several times every day over a period of possibly several months until departure at the same time as checking the growing network of countrywide webcams which are all now locked onto the 'favourites' bar for instant call-up in case of traffic problems which might obscurely affect our route !
Why Shirley thought ? (OK ISLAY ! NOW FORGET I WROTE THAT!) in November was a good idea I don't know and would never have asked !
Now, The Seychelles I wouldn't have minded but daren't have suggested, so a smelly and freezing flat in ? it was !
And of course, I didn't even mention the overwhelming smell of damp when I told the owners how charming their place was !
And I didn't tell the locals how scary and unfriendly they looked or how poor they seemed or how unattractive and windswept and cold their iland was or how I couldn't wait to leave as I had no interest in drinking whisky until my nose, which is noticeably larger than most peoples' had swollen to a huge purple bulb like theirs' and that one really boring distillery visit was enough for anyone !
In fact, visiting a distillery is almost as boring as visiting a power station or watching ten-year-old repeats of ' Police, Camera, Action from Lincolnshire ' which I seem to enjoy doing !
But although cold, gloom and the smell of damp overwhelmed the visit, we did finally have a tour to gaze longingly at Colonsay which stood admonishing us only a few miles across The Sound !
The drive ended up down a dead-end single-track road leading to a large house where uninviting gates suddenly loomed over us as we rounded a tight bend !
" David Stop !" Shirley yelled." You can't go on ! It's private ! Turn round ! We'll have to go back! Someone might have a gun ! Oh God! Only you could get us into this mess !"
" Shirley ! " I observed, " We're on a single-track road with no turning places and flanked by open fields on both sides, driving a Volvo Estate which is the longest car in Europe and although I agree that we are about to enter a private estate, I can't turn round without driving through the gates and using their wide drive ! "
" You can't drive onto their property ! " she groaned with rising panic in her voice and manner. " We'll get reported ! You'll have to drive onto the field and turn there ! "
"Who is going to 'report' us and to whom and with what consequences ? " I dared to ask! " And if you haven't noticed, it's been raining steadily for the entire week and the land might be a little too soggy to drive on in a car that weighs close to two tons ! "
" You'll just have to try it ! " she urged. " I'm not having the embarrassment of some irate man shooting us ! Just do it !"
And so that was how I ended up sunk up to my wheel arches in a field in the middle of nowhere on ? on a freezing November afternoon !
As I stepped out about twenty old-age pensioner twitchers appeared like magic from various hides and pushed me clear, despite the lady who I'd put in the driving seat to add power to the effort to go forwards putting the car into reverse before gunning it !
The ruts I left behind looked like a major ploughing contest had taken place which probably didn't please the landowner when he stood scratching his head wondering how they had got there but I didn't care what he thought as we left ? the following day, NEVER to return !
And the mud-covered pensioners standing up to their knees in a swamp didn't look too happy as we sped away, leaving a scene of mayhem !
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