FOLKS, after planning this year's annual Bray-cation we are going to need a holiday. Normally, we follow a simple four-step process:
1. Book some annual leave for any time outside of the school holidays.
2. Drive to the same beachside apartment we've been going to for years.
3. Enjoy a week of sun, sand, surf and pub grub.
4. Come home tanned, relaxed, slightly heavier and ready for another year.
Except, this year, the wheels fell off the planning wagon before it had a chance to trundle out of the barn.
Step One: thanks to a crowded end of year social calendar and work commitments, the only time we could all get our holidays to align was during this school holiday break. Not good. Even when the girls were at school we did not go away during the school holidays.
So I suggested we have a Bray Stay-cation instead.
Basically, we take a week off and do some day trips around our own region, check out the local sights as a family and come home each evening to sleep in our own beds. Apparently the only family members who thought this was a great idea was the dog and me.
Back to Step Two. I contacted our faithful motel manager who informed me the hotel had three nights available in the room wedged between the basement and the underground carpark, and the price was...
Eventually, I regained the power of speech and suggested to my family that perhaps, for a change, we should holiday somewhere else. Our search has not gone well.
We quickly discovered it would be easier to find Schapelle Corby's current mailing address than to find reasonably priced surfside accommodation during the school holidays.
So I staggered outside to water the garden and count my blessings. Firstly, I had a job to have a holiday from.
Second, the family still wants to holiday with me so I'm not really like Clark W Griswold after all.
After that little break I feel better already.
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