We went off to Corfu for a few days of sunshine a week or so ago. It has been ages, what with lockdown, the garden and family stuff but I was a little flabbergasted when Keith mentioned over lunch on Thursday that this had been, in fact, the first holiday (of more than a couple of days) away on our own since 1996.
The couple of days before we left were torrential. Instead of packing 48 hours in advance as directed by mum, I took to the garret and added a handbag and wallet to the beach bag I’d made. (There was naught to worry about. Coughs modestly, – were comprehensive speed packing an Olympic sport I would undoubtedly be a gold medallist) We had booked into an airport hotel the night before to avoid having to get up at 3 am and so ambled off at leisure, stopping for a curry before turning in. (The hotel was not a spot to linger in – the ambience was that of a rather run down open prison in 1982). Despite the early hour the airport was mobbed by 6 am and the bar thronged with pastel clad holiday makers enjoying a pre-flight pint of lager. Whilst admiring their commitment, I stuck to my bagel and coffee. In the way of these things we met Tom and Jocelyn from round the corner on their way to Lanzarote and jovially agreed that this miserable weather was ideal as a start to a sunny escape. I felt less certain of this when we hit turbulence mid flight but stuck to my reading and by the end of the flight I had polished off the first of my holiday books (Lessons in Chemistry – it was tremendous).
After the usual chaos getting the luggage back things went extraordinarily smoothly and by mid afternoon we were be-dookered by the pool, soaking up some rays. It was a lovely spot and just what we needed. After a leisurely forage from the magnificent breakfast buffet, the days passed in desultory reading, swimming and people watching – with periodic breaks for ice cream and coffee. An evening cocktail was followed by an even more leisurely dinner. Rince and repeat… By the end of our 5 days (baby steps…) I had consumed seven books, rather too much ice cream for my waistline and a prodigious quantity of olives. Keith worked through a more modest four books, though could claim a more impressive tally of swimming pool lengths than I, and has now adopted glacé kumquat as his preferred ice cream flavour (this may be a challenge to source in Berwickshire, though if Farm Direct can supply the fruit Lachlan and I have identified the ideal ice cream maker…) In any event, we have resolved that a 12 month gap (or thereby) before the next holiday might be more appropriate.
