I’ve been back for more or less six months now, and been at my job for three months. It doesn’t sound like a long time at all, but it certainly feels like it. Guess what, it’s time for a holiday!
Ok, I’ve been feeling that a holiday is definitely justified, considering all that’s been happening. But then I look at what I’ve just written and it makes me feel extremely frivolous.
Perhaps if I say that I’ve been told by work to use up 5.5 days of leave before the end of March, then I can go, see?! I HAVE to go on holiday.
I don’t want a week of backpacking and collapsing in a bunk bed in an 8-person room in a hostel at the end of the day. I want privacy and fluffy towels and a shiny swimming pool. I’ve done the churchs. I’ve done the action. Now I want luxury.
While looking around for accomodation, I discovered The Curse of the Single Traveller Who Doesn’t Want Bunk Beds:
For single occupancy, a supplement fee of 50% on top of the published price applies.
Lady, gimme a break. I’m booking you in a run away break for a recharge of sanity and you tell me I gotta pay EXTRA for it?! I don’t have anyone to go on holiday with and you tell me I gotta PAY you money for it?!
Lucky me, after announcing that I’m going on holiday alone or not, two friends rallied round and….tada! I’m flying off on Saturday for eight days of food, drink, sun, sea, and sand in Bangkok and Krabi.
Enough with this it’s-so-cold-they’ve-been-issuing-a-whole-week-of-cold-weather-warnings. Bring on the HEAT!