Back From Holiday

It was an unduly stressful holiday. Not far... just to Dorset. But we do not travel much and are, it do appear, unduly stuck in our ways. This means that a thousand things have to be taken with us in order to maintain routine. For we is aging and apparently do value both our routine and things familiar.

The short of it is - we haven't screamed at each other so much for ever such a long time. Where to go and what to do and which exit to take at the roundabout. Self-catering brings its emotional and digestive costs also. I have never cooked on an Aga before. Slops and toast do seem to be the end result of my attempts ... and baked potatoes. With bad sleep and bad choices of lunch destinations, I have never been so exhausted by a holiday before.

The upshot is ... that both The Old Man and Moi are appalled at the psychological rigidity what do accompany our stiff legs and backs. There is only one thing to do.

Go on holiday again.
And so we shall.
Quite soon.

Electric Palace in Bridport

PS. Things to enjoy in Dorset in September: dragonflies and swallows, terrific coastal scenery, fossicking for fossils and - Bridport with great food at the Soulshine Cafe and for lovers of jazz, rock and collecting vinyl Clocktower Music.

Holidays - Things To Do

It's me again. The Doll. The Old Man and me have decided to get away from it all. Or some of it at least. Not very far. To Dorset it looks like.

We do not travel much. We do not holiday much. When you are a gold-plated pensioner, every day is a holiday. N'est-ce pas? So I am making lists of things not to forget. Because when you are a pensioner one of the things you do best - is to forget.
And we have been shopping. For the things you need on holidays. Sandals for a start. There are bound to be beaches of loveliness in Dorset. I do know there are.
I have already bought one pair of sandals which, after a few hours of pain are to be returned to the shop. Today I bought another pair. This time ... so far so good. The Old Man is inspired to do likewise and buys a very complicated pair of Northwest Territory beach things covered in Velcro straps ... every which way. In fact these are so intricate that the shop assistant is also not too sure which webbed opening to use for foot insertion. But a solution was found and we have returned from shopping and are wiggling our respective toes.

But now I do wonder if I shall be spending silent, wet, holiday afternoons watching the rain dribble down the panes of glass. Silent that is except for the monotonous ripping sounds of The Old Man adjusting and re-adjusting the Velcro webbing on his sandals.