Wednesday April 20, 2005
As a bloke who is going through a protracted period of the idles you’d think I would be the last one to deserve to go off on holiday. Well, I don’t know about deserts. Like rights, they tend to become less and less well defined the closer you examine them. I’m happy to talk about need. Need is rather more obvious. And I think I’m in need of a holiday. Graham thinks I’m in need of a holiday. Even Dolly, were she able to offer a view, would probably think it a good idea.
Actually, I think we’re both in need of a holiday. Graham’s trip to Scotland has had to be postponed for a month so, given that we feel one of us should stay here to look after Dolly, and keep her company, the pressure is on me to make my mind up and hit the road. Soon. Very soon.
Taking a holiday is an idea I talk about far more often than actually act upon. I have an in-built resistance to spending money on such things. I love my home and my home life. I spent so much time during my working days away from home on business trips that I lost sight of the appeal of hotel stays and have yet yet to regain it. I can come up with all kinds of reasons why I ought not to go on holiday. Yet the compelling reason of needing a break before our house move is undeniable.
So, the pressure is on and this time I fear I shall have to yield to it. Not tomorrow, nor the day after, but soon. I rather fancy Scotland, for all kinds of reasons, quite apart from the obvious.
Hey ho. I’ll keep you posted.