Where ya goin’ fer yer ‘oliday, then?
Oh, I’m going to Dubai for a week, got a mega-deal, 965 quid including flights, meals, masks, tests, PPE and hospitalisation if required (ventilator option, add £225), and THEN, we’re gonna have 10 days in Heathrow for just 1750 quid. Plus meals. Or actually, plus the same meal every day. Plus two tests at 150 quid each. Plus any psychiatric help you might need after spending 10 days in a 12 foot square, windowless box looking out of a sealed window at where the planes would normally be taking off.
I’m really looking forward to it.

Ok, so you’re not actually allowed to ‘go on holiday’, not under the Boris dictatorship. I can see why. I get it. I really do. And to be honest, wild horses couldn’t drag me away. Or wild drag-artists couldn’t horse me away (LGBTQI joke, if they’re allowed), but I’ll keep my personal fantasies private, for the moment. And if I went away, where would I go? I crave freedom. So I could go to Burma. Hong Kong maybe. North Korea. All offer way more freedom than we currently enjoy in the world’s oldest democracy. And I’m not getting all Piers Corbyn about this (GOD FOR-FUCKING-BID!!!) or Jonathan Sumption, because once invoked, the C-word (covid… or coronavirus), suspends normality, reality and, quite often, sensibility. But that’s the world we’re living in, we have no other. Until Elon Musk sorts out Mars for us. 

And we’re not booking holidays for this year either. Yet. Its all too precarious. Too fraught. Too subject to last minute changes of a rather restrictive, punitive and ‘orrible nature. I’ll be happy enough when they let me back on the tennis courts. In (hopefully) just a few weeks’ time!!! That’ll feel like a holiday. An hour’s holiday. More than enough. Even though I could do with a week on a beach somewhere. Socially distancing, which is the only way to do ‘beach’ anyway. And a trip to see the babe in Berlin would be nice, but… but… but…

Happy Tuesday

A xxxx