As Our Lord might have
said as he hung pinned by those cruel nails at Calvary, "Christ what a week I’ve
had." No up-date over the last few weeks, chuckle chums, because I’ve been
totally tied up, 100% of the time, with work and booking the family holiday. The actual
breakdown was: time spent on work stuff 1%, time spent on booking the family holiday -
99%. There’s just so much to do you see. Apart from the hell of booking flights,
as in, " do we book now, or wait and see if the price comes down?" There’s
the need to carefully select our apartment complex. And why the need to be choosy? Two
words: The Euros.
Displaying that creepy prescience that sends sensitive curs scurrying away to hide
while whining, your editor thought this time last year that Scotland were unlikely to be
gracing the celebration of soccer coming up in Portugal. So, last year, on holiday, I was
really scoping out the holiday complex with one Euros related thought in mind; "If
the bar TV shows England scoring a goal how quickly can I get a brick through the
screen?"
Given that the holiday complex was also likely to be graced by the presence of English
fans quite properly supporting their team,( No, apparently it isn’t illegal for them
to do this. Which just shows you how deficient the legal system is, but there you go),
that first thought was closely followed by another thought, "If England are getting
humped, how far away do I have to be before celebrating safely?"
Decisions, decisions.
Anyway, all is well and in a few short days we’ll be winging our way southwards
but before that we are expecting a surprise visitor. As I asked my SO the other night,
"Who's that girl who turns up here occasionally, I think she’s a student or
something. She comes to our house, takes all our money, possessions and food and then goes
away again". "That would be our daughter" my SO kindly explained. Oh,
so that’s who it is…
