Oh dear...Holidays

Once again the time has arrived for me to break out in holiday terror. We tend to book our summer getaway in February, by which time we already have endured a few months of cold and very little sun. Invariably thoughts of immigrating are very alluring, and the idea of 40+ degrees and glaring sun combined with an ocean becomes rather appealing. So we head off to our favourite travel agent, brainstorm with her and leave the agency a whole lot poorer, but filled with tantalizing visions of sunshine , a nice hotel and walking bare foot over soft white sand, whilst listening to the gentle murmur of waves...

Then the time arrives. The season has ended and I go into my post work depression. My parents are "booked" to look after the cat and the turtles. The day before we leave is filled with bringing the violin for its check up, the obligatory "my mother is coming the house has to be clean" panic, the packing of the suitcase (we always travel with only one suitcase ...actually we own only one suitcase). The usual worries..did we pack enough underwear, does suntan lotion actually go off after five years,what jewelry shall I take, what to wear on the trip, do I have everything I need to put my face on....all accompanied by the mournfully accusing looks of the cat. My parents arrive with what looks like all their worldly belongings and then we head out to dinner with them. By this time I am convinced that the whole holiday thing is highly unnecessary and that we should just pass on the tickets and everything to my parents and stay home with the cat. After all I wanted her and she is my responsibility and I am a terrible cat mommy, abandoning her like that. The taxi is ordered for just after 7 am. Finally we head to bed, knowing that we have to get up at 5.30, fervently hoping that the cat will not throw up during the night, which she usually does....

The morning of departure dawns. We creep out of bed, so as not to wake up my parents. I cringe innerly and shush the cat as she begins with her rather loud morning aria, this time tinged with accusatory notes... After a hurried breakfast and a severely disrupted morning routine, the taxi comes and brings us to the station. We stand there, feeling lost in the early morning,waiting at our singularly unattractive station for the train. Once we arrive at Frankfurt airport, total confusion sets in on my part, and I never fail to be overawed by the fact that Thomas always knows exactly where to go. I would just get horribly lost. By this time I have only one thought in my head : COFFEE ! After much running we arrive where we have to be and now starts the part of feeling like a criminal. The handbag goes through the security thing and a usually butch lady in unbecoming health shoes makes me take off my shoes, paws me down and then runs the metal detector up and down me, which always starts beeping because of my hair clips and makes me feel awful. The COFFEE voice in my head has grown very persistent. When, after much trials the suitcase has finally been checked in, and I have not given in to the urge to murder someone, I see a coffee sign on the horizon. Finally, after the first sip of the strong, black, hot liquid, I can at last relax and begin to realise that I am supposed to be on a lovely holiday....that is until bewilderment hits me on arrival at our destination ...

I never claimed to be a rationally thinking,grown up person. That is all I can say to my defense...

Happy holidays !