Half-Hour Holidays

I’m on holiday. You might say that I’m pre-empting Monday’s treat. But I’m not.

I’m on holiday, but I still need to go to work (some holiday, you might say).

It sort of works like this; I like train journeys. I like to sit and relax on a train journey. I like to think that my train journey from home (and back) is a short half-hour holiday. And I’m currently travelling on a train; to work...

On holiday.

By my calculations that means that I get two holidays each day, fourteen holidays per week, fifty-six holidays a month, and over six-hundred holidays per year (give or take a few).

I like holidays.

We’ve recently had a new back (front) door fitted. With some windows. I call it a back door, but it is really a front door. It’s all made a significant difference to to warmth of the west-side of the house. I wish we’d had them fitted before the winter (although it has felt like winter these last few days). Sometimes, we never learn.

I like this new door. It has prompted a new routine to leaving and returning home – going around the back (remember those days?). I like this routine, because it has the feel of entering a holiday home.

I mentioned this to Wifelette this morning, over breakfast. She suggested that this was because the door looks like a caravan door. I took umbrage. I like that door. I don’t think it looks like a caravan door. A chalet door, maybe; but most definitely not a caravan door. You decide... 

It’s funny, because I had that ‘returning home to a holiday’ feeling for pretty much two years after we moved in to our little village. We wanted to move to the area, but had no real intention to move to the village (for all sorts of reasons, which might be shared at a later date). However, I have realised that often God has other plans. To cut a long story short (which is not like me, at all!!) we moved to our village. Into the house before this one.

The account of this adventure is best left for another day, but two things I do remember: It snowed that morning and; the local chip shop gave us a welcoming present, by way of a large bottle of Coke with our chips. We still go there for our fish supper.

I’m now at the end of my train journey and, consequently, at the end of the holiday for this morning. Today, though, I have to walk to work; I’m working late with colleagues, who will accompany me to the station on the way home. There might also be a pub involved on the way, so I took the decision to walk.

Missing Betty already.