We're All Going on a Summer Holiday

Hello People.

Cripes - what started as a debrief about my daily random life, for the entertainment of my local friends, has now had over 80,000 hits.  God. All those people knowing about the time I weed in the turn-ups of my jeans and my chemically burnt public hair. Gulp. But thank you  - all of you. I love that my life doesn't just make me laugh.

Anyway best I get on with the blogging show. I've been somewhat absent recently for two reasons....

1. Firstly I had to calm down a bit.  All is fine but I found myself having to restrain myself from strangling a woman in Halfords and had to go to the doctor before I ended up in local paper for assaulting someone with cheesestring in Asda.  More of this in another blog post.  But I'm fine. HONESTLY. Better than fine. It's just you don't ride this rollercoaster life without, eventually, needing to rest up and walk on mental crutches for a while.  

2. Secondly I am drowning, yes DROWNING, in paperwork.  Every hour I'm not at work I seem to be filling in forms.  I have more forms on my table than I've had hot dinners.  Granted I seem to live off slices of ham, pickled eggs and Hula Hoops but you get the idea... One of these forms is FORTY TWO PAGES LONG.  It's the MacDaddy of forms.  Every time I start it I have to open a box of chocolates or a bottle of Strongbow. And then I have to go to bed before I finish it.  Maybe I'll tell you all about it one day.  Long story.  It's not a happy form.

But anyway two of these forms were applications for my children's first ever passports.  Yes folks - MY CHILDREN ARE GOING TO LEAVE THE COUNTRY.  With me of course.  This means that, for the first time since my honeymoon, which was something like 9 years ago, I am going on a foreign holiday.  Woo hoo!

I'm going with a friend I met in a psychiatric hospital.  Seriously. She's awesome. She was in there with her twins the same time I was and we bonded over a million tears shed over not being allowed anymore little blue pills (Lorazepam not Viagra), dusty stacks of out of date copies of Heat magazine and the fact we weren't allowed hair straighteners less we tonged ourselves to death.

After my marriage breakdown she booked a holiday (not sure how that works!?) and told me to come with her.  So I said yes.  I haven't paid for this yet and at this rate probably will sometimes around retirement age but you know what, sod it.  It's time to take my children on that big old bird in the sky.  I think the original plan of hers was that I'd also experience some kind of holiday romance but there was a rather obvious flaw (or two) in this plan. Not to mention we are going to a very much 'family' complex (I have a feeling we are going to alter the tone slightly - I didn't say lower - just alter).  And anyway I don't need a holiday romance now because I'm too tired for any of that business.  And yes, for those of you wondering, still happily rolling around with a long distance lorry driver.   Never a dull moment......

The thing is, when I tell people this (the bit about taking my kids abroad, not the pashing a lorry driver thing), they frequently seem to recoil with horror 'what? You are taking them ON YOUR OWN!?'.  Well yes.   I live with the buggers ON MY OWN don't I? How much harder can it be in a hotel environment where the (pre-paid) alcohol starts being served at 10am? DURRRR'.

 'What?' they proclaim 'even the younger one!?'.  Yup - he's coming too.  'But what about the flight!?' they say with bulging eyes.   Err it's like 3 hours - I'll take huge amounts of sweets and tell him that if he makes too much noise the pilot will get distracted and the plane will fall out the sky leading to us all dying in blazing fireball.

Simple.

Like the time he threw a tantrum on an intercity train because he wanted to consume an entire multi-pack of crisps and I said no.  'Look mate'  I said 'do you actually WANT to turn into a huge obese critter that could potentially explode? No? Well there we are then. That's why you can't have 6 bags of crisps. Here have a boiled egg'.   Two business men stared in awe/horror at the little scene.  One burst out laughing. The other shook his head (though that might just have been about the presence of a boiled egg in a confined space).  I'd like to think the one laughing was the one who had children.

In reality it's actually the older one who will find it harder.  Because, it struck me the other day, I'm taking him to an island with:

- no railways

- no motorways

- no impressive industrial zones

I broke the news to him gently.  His lip quivered.  'But but but!' I interjected with my big smiley happy face on 'it's ok BECAUSE the electrics will be different! Different plugs, different sockets, even the telegraph poles will be different!'.

He contemplated this news in silence for a few moments then smiled and nodded.  And then asked a lot of questions about the electrics I couldn't actually answer.  And then proclaimed how tragic it must be for the local not to have any motorways.

So there we have it.  Most children will be looking forward to ice cream and swimming and sun and dancing in dodgy discos.  He's looking forward to examining the plug sockets.   Best I don't ever take him on a camping holiday without electrical points then.....Or anything wilderness focussed.

However to do all this I will need children's passport - and more on that farce tomorrow.  

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