Here We Go Again…

As usually happens at this time of year, we are once again going on holiday.

Some of you will know, we holiday in England because I refuse to put my dogs in a kennel so off we go again to spend a week in a metal box on stilts. (Caravan) I imagine it will be stifeling given the heatwave we are experiencing at the moment but it beats the fella’s idea of camping. (Something I despise) In my opinion, if I don’t have plug sockets and my own toilet, it’s not a holiday.

I tried camping once and have decided I don’t like it. Every so often he brings up the idea in the hope I change my mind but as far as I’m concerned, it’s never going to happen. If the insects weren’t enough to put me off, waking up to a bird flying around the tent definitely was. A loaf of bread and five digestives later, we finally enticed it out and I decided then and there that camping was not for me.

So, I’ve spent the last week packing and planning while counting down the minutes until I can say goodbye to the day job for two whole weeks and pack up the car.

Unfortunately, on my first day off work, I will not be enjoying a lie in. You see, my fella is one of those annoying people who like to get a nice early start when going on holiday. For those of you who don’t know, this means getting up before the sparrows have even farted and when the moon is still high in the sky. You would think staying in England would enable us to relax and leave when we feel like it, but in his bid to “miss the traffic” we are forced to drag ourselves out of bed at an ungodly hour and load up the car with our eyes still closed.

This is a feat in its self, considering I take an exceptional amount of luggage for one week (You have to plan for every eventuality) and the dogs need a suitcase all of their own but, luckily we have a large car so we load it up and off we trot. I would like to point out, that although he thinks we will miss traffic what this actually means is we get up before the farmers so, by the time we hit Lincolnshire you can pretty much bet that we will get stuck behind every tractor in a county and these tractors seem to be unable to go above ten miles an hour. I’ve never been able to understand why that is. I’ve seen ones on the other side of the road do at least fifty but as soon as the driver sees a holidaymaker behind him he suddenly forgets how to use the accelerator. I firmly believe they have a club and the one who delays the most people in a week wins a pig or something.

Anyway, I have one day left of the day job and then we are off. Naturally, the time is dragging and this has been the longest week ever but in less than forty-eight hours I intend to be sitting on a beach watching the dogs play and enjoying an ice cream… Or catching up on sleep since I was forced to get up so early!

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