Back to the Drawing Board

Sensory overload, and the accompanying breakdown of my already limited emotional stamina, brought my web-surfing (to find a couple of night’s holiday accommodation) to a grinding halt last evening. One of the hotels sounded promising and well within the price limit we’d set ourselves but, suddenly a mind-numbing fog crushed any pro-active section of my brain into total shutdown.

After 11 hours bed-rest, pillow-propped and laptop at the ready, I’m prepared for action. A further search disclosed that the “promising” hotel is, according to customer reviews, rich in cramped accommodation, no lifts, a breakfast window of precisely 30 minutes etc. Definitely unpromising now! Eventually found another hotel, where the price of accommodation was 60% higher; I baulked at that price, especially as this was a supposedly last minute bargain price.

A further search found this same hotel, but the room rate was £40 per night cheaper than that on the ‘bargain’ site! So, I duly registered with the new site and, sure enough the same type of accommodation was available at this lower price for the same two nights (tonight and tomorrow). By the time this discovery was made, my head felt as if it was giddily burning up and my limbs were aching. Still, nothing daunted, I moved on to confirm the booking, credit card details at the ready! Start to enter the number when, out of nowhere, the tears started flowing as stress mounted; quickly backtrack and cancel this venue from the basket!

Suddenly, it had all become too much; a new venue and, a car trip more than five times further than any travel experience over the past couple of years, was a prospect too far. Waves of guilt swept over me as I felt that I was letting both ma belle and myself down. Of course Helen pooh-poohs that idea, well she would – wouldn’t she; my own sense of dismal failure is a different matter. Although I recognize that even the contemplation of the venture was a sign of progress, it somehow still leaves a kind of nagging and gnawing void at the core of my being.

As Helen has the week off work, we’ll perhaps have the odd day out (closer to home) with a bag packed in the boot in case the impulse to stop at wherever we reach takes over. No pre-planning/pre-booking, just see how the physical and emotional resources are in the event.

Anyway, I managed to knock up a spicy ham pasta for lunch for the two of us; much appreciated by the grateful recipients and, already, the world looks brighter despite the plans going awry!