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I Hate Holiday Trips

It has taken many years but I have at long last worked out why I hate holiday trips.
Kids scream "I hate you, I'm leaving home" and we patronise them, "Why do you think it would be different somewhere else?"
Adults do it all the time.
If you want to see a rose red city half as old a time and haven't got the imagination to visualise it from the copious pictures and walkthroughs available to the casual browser then, fine, go and waste a week chewing sand and catching interesting diseases.
But if you just want to just "get away from it all" then travel isn't the solution. You have got something wrong with where, what or who you are living with. If you don't put that right sweating on a holiday flight isn't going to solve it.
And that is why I'll be at home this coming week.I haven't spent thousands of pounds to make my home comfortable to me to then spend a few days holiday cramped up in some Spanish idiot's idea of the minimum he can get away with for the money.
If you are going away, good luck, envy me.

Comments

I completely agree with you on this one. Going on holiday fills me with dread. Been there done that.

The nice thing about going to far flung places is that it empties the cities and countryside during the summer and makes them much more pleasant for the the rest of us.

London's a hot'n'horrible mess as we run through the weeks approaching the summer holiday season, then it quietens down and you can have quite a decent day if you just ignore the tourist hotspots where some other country's idiots are all crammed in.

Same in the countryside, keep away form the "attractions" and it's great.

I cant wait

I agree with your sentiments.

I remember nicking this piece from a blogger about a year back; I think it appropriate.

"Man has no need to travel to become greater; he bears immensity within.
The accents escaping from your breast are immeasurable and find an echo in thousands of other souls:those who lack the melody within themselves will demand it of the universe in vain.
Sit on the trunk of a fallen tree in the depths of the woods; if in profound forgetfulness of yourself, in immobility, in silence, you fail to find the infinite, it is useless to wander the shores of the Ganges seeking it.”

François de Chateaubriand

Going on a holiday is comparable to being inebriated. When you get back home, you still have to face the same crap. When you wake up the next morning, you still have to face the same crap.

Going on a holiday is comparable to being inebriated. When you get back home, you still have to face the same crap. When you wake up the next morning, you still have to face the same crap.

Used to drive my poor Glaswegian Mum mad with cheap Scotsman jokes:

Me: "Mum, how does a Scotsman take a holiday?"

Mum: (wearily) "How?"

Me: "Sits at home and lets his mind wander."

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