Yesterday was a dull old day in Somerset. Grey skies.
Intermittent rain. A bit like the first few pages of My Family and Other Animals….
And it was very quiet: my husband is in Poland with some
friends having a jolly, where it is warm and sunny, where they are having
saunas and sightseeing, where they are staying up at night sipping cognac and
singing. And yesterday he phoned me up and told me all about it.
He mentioned that his friends had been chatting about why
they get away with their mates as a group, but their wives don’t seem to do it.
Guys! What would you
do then?
Yup!
I was on the phone…
See that photo up there ↑ that is when I went to
Portugal with a friend last year. Magical. Eating grilled squid in fish restaurants by the
harbour, walking through olive groves, nipping into Spain to get a Wi-Fi
signal.
So I phoned-the-friend and I said let’s get a bunch of us
together to go away like the guys are doing. I said let’s book a holiday and
get away. Let’s find somewhere sunny near the sea and get away from the routine
of, well, whatever…
And she didn’t say calm down and think again in the morning,
or that she couldn’t afford it, or that she didn’t have time, or that she was
too busy, or that she’d think about it. No, she said come over and let’s plan.
So I took the nearly full bottle of Shiraz that I’d started
the night before, and some 70% dark chocolate [the ‘healthy’ kind] and was
straight over there. Out came the laptop and the wine glasses and we trolled
through pages of Italy before we decided that it was too expensive, so we
went back to trusty cheap old Portugal and found a beach house where you BBQ on
the terrace and walk out of the back door onto the sandy beach. And the first mate we contacted said 'I'm in!'.
That’s what friends are for – not to say ‘we can’t’, but to
say – ‘Go for it!’
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