WE have booked our summer holiday; two weeks in Rhodes in June. This will be our third Euro trip of 2016, after the mini-breaks in Krakow and Barcelona. Those who know The Current Mrs Feeney well will be wondering what’s got into her; in the past, she has welcomed the prospect of travelling and holidays with all the enthusiasm of an NHS junior doctor for one of Jeremy Hunt’s new contracts (apologies to non-UK readers who are slightly bemused by the above comparison; if it’s any consolation, the current dispute between doctors and the UK Government baffles me too.)
Anyway, I ventured to ask what had brought about this sea-change in her attitude to packing a suitcase and jumping on a plane. She said she thought it was important, at this stage of our lives, to “make memories.” Fair enough, though in my case hanging on to the ones I’ve already got is enough to be getting on with, thank you.
We rolled up to the travel agency with resort and hotel already decided. So booking the holiday was straightforward. It only took an hour, after a pleasant diversion by way of Ibiza, Kos and Croatia. How do they do that?
I went for a swim last Friday, for the first time in a fortnight. I overheard one of the Retired Blokes Swimming Club regulars telling a fellow denizen of the showers that he had swum half a mile in twenty minutes. That is a remarkable feat on his part, not least because it took me twenty-two minutes and I overtook him twice.
On Saturday, TCMrsF and I celebrated our 28th wedding anniversary (thank you so much) with lunch in a pub-restaurant on the beautiful Gower peninsula.
We knew that the pub in question, the Britannia Inn, was in the remote village of Llanmadoc. So I’m not entirely sure why we drove to the village of Llanrhidian, where we stopped the car, said decisively “this isn’t the right village,” and headed back along the Llangennith road.
We came to a fork in the road; Llanmadoc was signposted right; the Britannia Inn was signposted left. Dilemma. “Go left” said TCMrsF. Dilemma resolved.
Ten minutes of increasingly empty road later, I broke the Retired Blokes first rule of the road; I stopped and asked a local if we were heading in the right direction. Over the hill and first right would bring us to where we wanted in about a mile, was his considered opinion.
Another ten minutes of soaking up the wilderness later, we arrived. The meal was delicious.
Something odd happened on Tuesday; I went to work. Up to a point. I’ve been asked by Citizens Advice to help develop a communications strategy for the media. It was strangely enjoyable to be talking about brand identity and client awareness again.
Don’t tell Mrs F, though. She’ll think I need a holiday.