It started so well. The weather and the scenery were beautiful.
We were really relaxed and laid back.
The foot that launched a thousand ships
Then came the dark clouds.
If Anton Corbijn sold holidays...
And with them came a cloud over my mood. A mini nervous breakdown, caused by the following...
1. Work frustrations rearing their ugly head.
2. The dead atmosphere in the village's one horse pub with its loop of The Eagles Greatest Hits Including The Really Shit Stuff From The Eighties and the seventies menu including gammon with pineapple rings.
3. The small claustrophobic rooms in the cottage.
4. Being woken at 6.30 each morning by the clippety clop hooves of a ghost horse.
5. The shit radio reception in the cottage, giving us a choice of the appalling Virgin or the "Take me back to when I was a miserable fifteen year old" Planet Rock.
6. The shit television reception in the cottage which made all the Euro 2008 matches look like they were being played in snowstorms.
7. Our dirty clothes getting locked in the cottage's broken washing machine.
8. A hairy coastal drive in which I thought the car was going to break down stuck on the edge of a cliff as I attempted a tricky seventy-three point turn.
We left for home six days early.
Those of you who aren't going on holiday this year can laugh your tits off. Go on, it's funny. Those of you going somewhere more sensible, I salute you.
I need a holiday.
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