Happy Holidays

In the words of Eric Morecambe “What do you think of it so far?” 

“RUBBISH!” 

To be honest this is and always has been my general feelings towards holidays.

As an only child the thought of two weeks away with Mum & Dad never really appealed. They wouldn’t fly but insisted on going abroad, the South of France or Italy were often our annual destinations. My abiding memory is setting off from Leeds at some godforsaken hour so we could catch the Ferry from Dover to Calais. In a 2000 mile round trip timing was everything! I mean really 2000 miles in a crappy silver Ford Cortina with no gadgets to keep you amused and not being able to read as you were told you’d be sick. It’s a wonder I didn’t throw myself overboard as soon as the ferry had set off.

I’m always happiest at home and always have been. It sounds odd to say this when you’ve lived abroad but to me I guess that was home. I can take or leave holidays, the thought of sharing a plane and hotel with other people really doesn’t do it for me. I’m not exactly what you’d call a people person. No offence dear reader but in all likelihood I probably don’t like you. 

In no way let that prejudice your decision to read on, to be fair if you know me, follow me on twitter or have read my previous pieces you probably knew this already.

You can only imagine my delight when this year Mrs.L had organised for us to go away with her parents, sister and sisters children. A week in a converted barn near the North Norfolk Coast sounded charming. A week in a converted barn with 4 other adults and 5 children, 3 of which aren’t mine, not so much.

Now I’m not good with children, never have been. I wasn’t good as a child myself and could be a proper moody, spoilt little shit; to be fair not a lot has changed with me over the years.

I’m not good with my own children; I’ve given up getting them ready for school. They know the routine well enough by now; we have to be out of the house by 8:30 to get the school bus. So we always leave the house by 8:30 it’s just up to them what state of dress or rather undress they’re in. What’s that? You haven’t eaten your breakfast? Tough shit. Don’t get me wrong I’ll help if called upon but would rather listen to 6 Music than get involved in some petty squabble about who threw whose pants in the cereal and blew their nose on them (this actually happened a fortnight ago.)

To be fair I am waiting for a call from school telling me that sending them with one shoe and no pants is unacceptable.

Don’t get me wrong I do love my children to bits, but kind of think isn’t it time you got a job and moved out yet? (They’re 8 & 5)

You don’t need to be a genius to guess how I am with other people’s children. Mine I have to like, yours I don’t.

I am aware that it is only a holiday and for the majority of people a holiday isn’t a problem, for me it is. I haven’t spent any length of time with people this year. I actively seek solitude these days, the depression making me more unsociable than ever.

I do venture out of the house but on my terms with the safety net of being able to return home when I want or need to. This holiday really isn’t on my terms.

I had a bad week before this and could feel the familiar symptoms creeping up on me. Lack of sleep, restlessness, over analysing, convincing myself I’d upset people and generally being irritable and uncomfortable with myself.

Apologies to those with the misfortune of dealing with me this week.

I’ll be honest I was / am scared. A friend on twitter described it better than I ever could; there is a fear of even the slightest drop when you suffer from depression. You’re scared of any ‘normal’ low mood because it is too close to the horror of a depressive episode. I can’t face going through it again. I’m really trying to not think that way and put it down to a bad week pure and simple, we’re all allowed those from time to time.

It would have been very easy for me to simply not come. I could’ve stayed at home and with the dog, a bottle of rum and some books. But I didn’t, I put the rum and books in the car, followed by the girls and Mrs.L (priorities and all that!)

The journey down was shite, traffic jams the whole way and a 3 and a half hour journey became 5 hours. I broke my golden rule of ‘no stopping’ so Mrs.L could have a wee, I think I must be mellowing or it’s the pills, I’m not too sure which.

My packed lunch didn’t survive getting out of Yorkshire; I’d eaten my first sandwich 200 yards down the road.

By the time we arrived I was pretty much ready to murder someone, I even found myself yelling “STOP ASKING, YOU’RE NOT A BLOODY CHI…” managing to stop myself just short when asked how long until we’re there for the umpteenth time.

But all that said here I sit on holiday, everyone else has gone to the beach and I’m listening to music and writing this. It’s the first time I’ve been alone in 3 days. You’d think I would’ve done something better with my time.

I have been semi sociable, I’ve been to the beach and had a pint in what can only be described as a rough shithole of a pub with the father in law. To say we stood out is an understatement, for a start we were overdressed in a t-shirt and shorts plus we had more than 3 teeth between us (Me a snob? Never!)

The girls are having fun and I know that’s the main thing. I’m trying to, booze and books are definitely helping.

But no amount of alcohol or pills will ever make me celebrate or congratulate a 4 year old for the achievement of eating a potato. Sorry it’s never going to happen.

Well if these are my last words you know I didn’t survive another 5 days #PrayforAndy