22 January 2008
I have now officially, unfortunately, have had to join the ranks of the CPB*. Oh how I mocked as I watched them schlep off to be enveloped by the sanitised wave area. Belittled their attempts at explaining how good the baby crèche was. Dismissed the hot grill as food for Neanderthals. "Not interested," I chuckled. "You’re all past it, you fools. The world is yours for the taking. Well the summer holidays anyway."
There I was, nicely settled in for a holiday booking frenzy, builder's tea in one hand, mouse in the other, an out of date pack of those nice nobbly chocolate digestives ready for decimation. Let the clicking begin. Through the breezy deals on lastminute.com I wafted, stopping by for a chinwag with the nice people at Opodo. Dreamily projecting myself poolside at my own Jane’s villa. For 30 minutes I was there, I could feel the sea air, the sun warming my newly shaved head, as I delicately applied a liberal dose of factor 50 around my slightly-too-tight Speedo’s. Bliss.
It didn’t last long, Just one wrong click and I was a goner. Eleveden Forest it said, no air travel it said, guaranteed baby stuff it said. In my fuzzy state cost, the hassle of travelling with the worlds least favourite airline (no prized for guessing which one, it’s just too easy), and soft play area got me in its vice-like grip.
When I awoke, the computer screen was winking smugly at me. I had just booked Centre Parcs for my hols. Bummer.
I’ve been crying myself to sleep ever since, thinking about cosying up to David Morales and Fatboy Slim (don’t worry, professional help has been arranged) and playing the bongos till dawn with a trustafarian called Julian - Hmm on second thoughts…Salt-free water and plastic palm trees cant be that bad, can they?
1. Is it possible to fool people into believing it’s your 30th birthday when actually….?
2. Who invented sleep and can I have their number to uninvent the need for it? Please.
*Center Parcs Brigade – a terrible affliction if left untreated