Episode 27: Holidayzzzzzz

So, here we are again. Six weeks ago today, the lovely José and I walked out of the school and breathed a rather large sigh of relief that we were about to have 5 weeks holiday. What appears to be three days later, here I am, sitting at my usual desk having done a week's work. And do I feel like I've had a holiday?? Do I bogroll!

Much more wholesome
than a picture of a
Methodist gangbang

When the day finally came where I no longer had to get up at stupid-o'clock to go to work and pretend I know something about the English Language, what happened............? We both woke up at 6am and lay there as startled as a virgin in a Methodist gangbang, both feeling like we'd already been done over. I sent a carrier pigeon over to his side of the bed with a message: Are you awake? He was and was counting every episode of "Friends" in his head in an attempt to get himself back to sleep. I should have done that: "One.......Twozzzzzzzzzzz" Needless to say, he watches those particular DVD's when I'm not around.

Well, the holiday started in earnest, but once Ernest left and went home, we were able to relax!! (Ha! The oldies are the best, so I'm told.) Anyway, the moment we started our holiday, we never damn well stopped working. All the jobs in the flat that were put off were done, plus I did José's favourite thing......<looking around the lounge and talking in an inquisitive tone> "José my love.....don't you think that these units would look better over here?" He LOVES it when I do that. You see, my family and I suffer from some sort of furniture removal syndrome although I feel that it's worth pointing out right now that I'm nowhere near as bad as my sister. Sometimes she would get up at 4am when she couldn't sleep and move all the furniture round in the lounge as the family slept. I'm not sure if it was a need within her or to confuse hell out of them when they came downstairs in the morning half asleep and wondered if they'd woken up in someone else's house. I do have to keep reminding José of this, to show him just how bad it could be.

Smarter than the
average pyjamas!

Anyway, we had built a load of bookcases for the library of CD's/DVD's and books we have, only for me to decide that they would look better in a slightly different format; once we'd loaded them all up of course! Funny thing is that in this case, he agreed with me, but everytime he left the lounge, I heard a strange banging coming from the kitchen. I'm certain that's a head-shaped dent in the worktop by the cooker hob.

Our first week's holiday was a blur of birthday parties (my mother-in-law), house tidying and working. I wanted to do all the work for the new term at the beginning of the holiday in order to get it out of the way, a job I came to be grateful for in our last week. It was hard work and I thought we were never going to finish it, although being able to do it all in my Yogi Bear onesie made it all the more enjoyable.

Other flavours of mouldy soup are available

Week 2 saw us entertaining French people for 6 days. Not all French people, just two of them you understand. Trust me, two is enough! Then in the middle of week 3, we came to the UK. On the way to the airport on that Wednesday morning, I suddenly realised that I'd made soup on Monday evening (in the middle of a hot summer? Don't ask! I just had a craving) and having had a large bowlful on the Monday evening, intended to finish it on the Tuesday. With this in mind, I put the pan of soup in the oven ready to take out and warm up. As we blissfully drove to the airport, looking forward to being back in Blighty, I realised I'd not finished it on the Tuesday and there it would sit for 2 whole weeks. There's nothing like a little soup drama to upset the equilibrium.

I was looking for a picture of a rotting
corpse, but this one of the Spanish 
Duchess of Alba seemed close enough

Did we relax once home? Did we? No, we bloody well didn't. Two days in London, two days in Hastings, four days in Lincoln, three days in North Yorkshire, two more days in Lincoln, one night in Stansted and then home. We were knackered, not to mention disorientated!! Sure, we had a great time seeing friends and family, but it wasn't long enough and we did too much in too short a time. By the time we got home on the Wednesday of our last week's holiday, I didn't feel like I'd had 5 minutes to myself since we stopped working. Of course, the moment I walked in, I just had to check the soup situation. I had visions of the mould having taken over the oven and the build up of fumes having blown the door off, where José imagined that the smell would have alerted the neighbours to a couple of rotting corpses in the flat and we would find our front door broken down and police tape all over the place. Instead, we found nothing of the sort. I won't describe the soup to you as I can't think about it even now without gagging, but needless to say, I flushed it away as quickly as I possibly could and disinfected both the pan and the oven within minutes. Had José stood still long enough, he would have been hosed down with disinfectant too. Mind you, that wouldn't have been a bad thing. When we go to airports, he has this thing about covering himself with every conceivable fragrance known to man. It works quite well on Ryanair as it serves as a sort of pungent exclusion zone for our three seat row. When he got home, he was still ponging pretty strongly of stuff that it started to take the paint off the kitchen wall. A dousing of Dettol wouldn't have hurt.

On the last day of the holiday, we decided to go to the local town council and register ourselves as living in the area. Only the Spanish can do things this way............when we walked in, there were three ladies at the front desk and all three had people with them. One finished and she beckoned us over. José told her what we were there for and so she told us to stand in the queue for the lady on her right. Whilst waiting, another three people came in and she put two on her right side queue and one on her left. That's it! That was her job! It beggars belief. Councils up and down the country are losing money mano over puño (hand over fist!) and they employ someone to put people in the right queue. To be fair, I think she had other roles; she was also employed to tut loudly at people who were very common and offer withering looks at those who were wearing clashing colours. She earned her money that morning, I can tell you!

Dedicated to my mum, who looked after us so well whilst we were in the UK.
Thanks for the new pants which fit like a glove! (insert your own joke here) xxx