Tag: annual leave

Back to reality

Urgh. Depressing as it is the Christmas holidays – the holy grail of time off work that keeps me going when winter creeps in following a summer of fun – is over.

Back to reality

10 whole days of no work and no alarms seem now to have passed in a flash (they haven’t, of course). I feel like I haven’t done justice to all of the food we have in the flat (there’s still soooo much chocolate and I’m sure the tubes of Pringles are multiplying). Worse still, both the husband an I are ill today with a snotty, sore throaty, hot sweaty lurgy. So any plans to make the most of our final day with a boozy roast lunch at the pub were quickly curtailed.

In truth, this is probably for the best. The temptation to eek every last second out of the Christmas holiday is all well and good until it’s time to get up and you realise you have no breakfast in the house, a cumulative Christmas hangover and all of your clothes are too tight.

At least this way I’ve had chance to get slightly prepared.

I’ve lounged about watching mindless TV in pyjamas while simultaneously doing washing and tidying. I went to the supermarket so we have stuff for lunches. Now I’m making a cheese and potato pie – a great idea for using up all the cheese we haven’t eaten, until I realised I had no potatoes so had to go back out. I sound almost domestic!

This is the first day I haven’t had an alcoholic drink in at least 3 weeks (what can I say, I started early) which can only stand me in good stead for tomorrow.

I almost became a New Year cliché in the supermarket filling my basket with ingredients for green smoothies (more on this potential fad another time) and buying vitamin C tablets, but the latter was purely because I’m hacked off with being ill (third cold in two months, I mean come on!)

All that’s left now is to find something good to watch on TV, try not to clock watch and then lie in bed willing sleep not to be evasive – it will be difficult enough to get up early as it is, without being extra tired as well.

Hope everyone’s working week isn’t too arduous!

Thanks, as always, for reading! x

 

Holiday stress (first world problems)

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It’s rather ridiculous that something that’s supposed to be fun, something to look forward to and something to relax you should be stressful. But my head is about to burst this year!

I’m very much of the “let’s use our annual leave to see stuff and go places” school of thought. Husband would happily spend a week at home. I think that’s a ridiculous waste of time. I usually always win.

This year we’re a bit short on annual leave, as we both started new jobs in April and so our holiday has been pro rata’d accordingly. Hence why we found ourselves sitting down with a spreadsheet, no less, to carve up our annual leave. That kind of ruins the fun straight away.

We’d planned on a short break to Europe, 3 or 4 nights all inclusive where we could lounge in the sun, read books, eat and drink loads. I would have shoe-horned in a daytrip somewhere too, just to satisfy my wanderlust. We were all priced up and researched and ready to go to Majorca.

I mean, look at it. Why wouldn’t you?

Majorca

Then, in true us style, we faffed. Not because we didn’t want to go, but because life happens. And by the time we did come to book it, the price had gone up by over £100.

Arse.

I then suggested Greece. Loads of bargains to be had, and as long as you’re all inclusive and paid up front you don’t need money, right? Husband was reticent – pointing out that the hotels may run out of money to buy food. I poo-pooed him and would have booked but I have to say now, with events of yesterday, that I’m glad one of us has a sensible head (I hope he isn’t reading this).

And so we decided on Wales. Now that might seem rather a departure (pun intended) from beach and guaranteed sunshine. But North Wales is one of my very favourite places in the UK – so green and atmospheric and mountainous and just generally ace. And we had plans of going on sunny walks, searching out waterfalls, eating lamb (of course!), sitting in beer gardens and generally chilling out.

North Wales

Our plans were nearly scuppered when the only guesthouse we wanted to stay at was showing no availability online, but a quick call and some jiggery-pokery meant that the owner was able to accommodate us.

All well and good.

Until today when the bloody weather forecast has turned and is now showing a rather unseasonal 14 degrees and rain for next weekend. And husband’s colleague has just come back from North Wales and didn’t see any of last week’s heatwave.

What to do? I have revisited Majorca plans in a mad panic, as the thought of spending precious annual leave in a sodden sulk fills me with dread. And the cost of keeping ourselves occupied will no doubt boost the Welsh trip into the realms of European spend anyway. But am I being a brat? Should I accept my fate and make the best of it, whatever the weather?

Don’t even start me on how we’ll agree on the rest of our leave. I had grand plans for Hong Kong, even offering to pay for us from my redundancy fund, but husband has little desire to go East.

That week at home that he so desires may be closer than he thinks…