I don’t think I’m a fully fledged member of the Seasonal Adjustment Disorder society (SAD) but I do tend to get a bit melancholic at this time of year. The beautiful decay of autumn always makes me reflect on things that were and things were never meant to be. I realise this possibly sounds like pretentious psychobabble and it probably is but I remember feeling this way every year since……..well since I can remember really.
Setting off from and arriving home in complete darkness is not a recipe for happiness for me and I find myself longing for spring before we’ve even got to winter. This last week has been cold, damp and miserable and Mel and I found ourselves short of something to look forward to, especially given that our next trip to France is not planned until January. For the last two years, we’ve been over in Chalus for New Year but we have both used up our holiday allocations so that’s not an option this year. Mels birthday is in January and we plan to spend a week around our wood burning stove eating birthday cake and watching crap films.
January is so far away though and I hate thinking it will be another nine weeks until we see our house and our friends in France again. So………at Wednesday Roz’s suggestion, we have booked a weekend break in two weeks time. We have booked flights from East Midlands on the Friday evening, returning on the Sunday. Even allowing for the fact that we require a seat for the whole journey, might want to visit the loo whilst in the air and require oxygen for the whole flight, Ryanair are charging us just £10 each way per person. So for approximately £50 we will have 48 hours in the Limousin, which feels like a bargain from where I am sitting.
Roz and Neil have kindly offered to collect us from Limoges and have also mentioned some kind of dance on the Saturday night including live music and a four course meal in Champsac. As long as there is no legal requirement for me to dance this will suit us just fine. I will say right now that I will not be dancing as my moves on the dancefloor are even worse than my vocals on the karaoke which is an impressive feat in itself. That and the fact that Mel is a couple of inches taller than me, even without heels and you can see why I am keen to avoid looking like some kind of Mancunian Billy Joel and Christie Brinkley.
Next weekend we’re off to Hartlepool to see Mels parents and I’m really looking forward to seeing my Mum-in-law Pat after her recent knee operation.
I intend to give myself a kick up the arse this week and be back with a brighter perspective and perhaps a few Leishmanic tales next week.
OH please say you will be dancing!! We’ve already seen you strutting your stuff and think you will go down well in Champsac. Ha Harrrrrr!!!!