A post in which I act like a stalker ex-girlfriend (about a holiday).

The week just gone has forced me to seriously question whether holidays are worth the subsequent comedown. Apologies must go out to all the friends, family members, and colleagues who have tried their best to get more than a grunt or a sigh out of this woeful wretch since I landed back in Blighty last weekend. Sunshine, chocolate, and Daphne Du Maurier have all played their part in helping to heal a heavy heart on this otherwise lovely Sunday; my Tunisia playlist has been paused, I've snipped off my holiday wristband, and I haven't checked the Thomas Cook website once today to see if that one seat on the 16th July is still free! Ok I did check once but that was it!

No sod all that, I want you, I need you, this is worse than a breakup! Neither of us wanted this and yet here we are, thousands of miles apart, separated by land and sea, and who knows when we'll see each other again. What am I going to do without the terrible vodka, the Lady Gaga drag acts, the daily game of darts, or the constant fear that someone is about to throw me in the pool? I will be back with you soon my love, please don't forget about me. You will have other guests of course, but they won't love you like I do. You know it, I know it, we're meant to be together.

So yeah...holidays...worth it?

x