We’ve had occupation of our new house for just over a week now and as we only move sometime in the future, we try to find reasons to go there and mooch from room to room. So this past Friday we decided that instead of going out for supper – our usual Friday night routine – we’d take a picnic and eat at the new abode.
It was a beautiful evening and we loaded up the vehicle and trundled down there. We set our picnic table and chairs on the patio and ate our roast chicken salad and toasted ourselves with a bottle of bubbly. The sky was clear and the stars sparkled, and for a moment we felt as if we were on holiday. There was no TV murmuring in the background, no electrical equipment buzzing and wonderfully no teenagers crashing from room to room. It was bliss.
The tranquility of the moment once again made me think about the type of holidays hubby and I tend to go for. Not so much the destination, but the accommodation. We usually, or rather I usually, pick the high end package, not quite 5 star but pretty close. We then spend a fortune staying in these places and end up resenting not utilising the facilities as we’re out all day.
So I’ve made a pact with myself this year to have more laid back holidays where I focus on the surroundings rather than the accommodation. No more need for crisp white sheets, and silly little flowers on my breakfast butter. I can cope with a cosy duvet and butter straight from it’s container.
I want to retire in the evening to my accommodation where I can sit under the stars next to a braai without waitrons hovering near by to clear my plate.
I also want to sit in a lounge without other guests and talk and laugh as much and as loud as I like without feeling the need to whisper, for fear of disturbing their peace.
And finally I don’t need the draw-card of Satellite TV in my bedroom, I’m on holiday after all, and who needs to watch the news then…