Travelling…

Travelling…

It’s always an ‘oh no’ moment. The one when He says ‘Let’s book a holiday.’

This sets me off to the computer, and also sets me thinking about people who say their big ambition is TO TRAVEL.

I, folks, do not like to travel. I like to ARRIVE at my destination, yes, lovely. But travelling? You can keep it.

Travel and I have had many bad experiences in the past.

Flying, for example. Like the time a toddler sitting two inches from my face (OK, slight exaggeration but it felt like it) let out a series of truly ear-shattering screams all the way through a flight from Cyprus. And then, as a sort of piece de resistance, she threw up all over my laptop, which as a writer is the equivalent of being a violinist and having someone trash your Stradivarius with a hammer.

And what about reserving your seats? What a waste of time that is. You pay for extra leg room and an uncaring hostess seats you somewhere else where you sit with your knees pressed up against your ears, then ignores your complaints. You then get back home and complain to the company involved and they ignore you too.

Oh, and then there was the nine-hour delay, which we are still struggling to get compo for.

AND what about the (seemingly endless) flight when three people sitting right in front of me about two feet from my face (this too is an exaggeration, but it felt like it, I promise you). They scratched their heads all the way through the flight. I mean, VIOLENTLY. I said to Him, I am going to catch something virulent here. He said, don’t be silly.

I caught something virulent.

And speaking of which, what about our trip to Jersey to see the air show? Catching the tail end of a hurricane in September, the air was thick with humidity, it was pouring with rain, and the air show was cancelled. Checked into our hotel which was five star, and started feeling distinctly itchy overnight. Got home, red marks on stomach, then MORE red marks all over.

I’d brought home a bed bug.

Then the hotel on Majorca, which had once been lovely but was now in the hands of a penny-pinching new manager. He turned the pool heater off three days before the end of the season, so we shivered. The cushions for the sun beds, once lush and lovely, were now thin and a rep demanded loudly by the pool that anyone who had taken two (or three, I wonder who that was? Ah yes. Me.) should hand them back RIGHT NOW.

Reader, I did not hand them back. What a rebel, eh?

I could go on. Greeting meetings that were nothing but a glass of orange squash and an opportunity for reps to lock the doors then try to hard-sell you exorbitantly priced day trips on overheated coaches. Sea views that you had to crane sideways to appreciate. People nicking your dining table. Getting stuck in unserviced lifts.

Ah, no. Can’t do it.

He’s asking about travelling again.

‘Let’s travel the world,’ says he. ‘Take in the sights.’

I have a better plan.

Let’s not bother.

2019-04-17T11:19:38+00:00