Stephanie Colpron is our hostess for the MLMM Tale Weaver.
This week she asks,
Tell me a tale of holidays… What do holidays mean to you?
You can join in here
My post might be a little different than one would expect.
As a kid, holidays meant getting up later and not having to go to school, though as a teenager, it meant getting up at the same time and going to work with Mum for some extra pocket money.
The holidays could never come round fast enough, and when they did, they were almost over before I got the hang of them!!
In my working life, I was lucky in that I had paid holidays every year of three or four weeks, plus the bank holidays, and when I returned to my home town and started work at the American bank, the more years I worked there, the extra paid holiday I was entitled to. By the time I left, I was up to almost six weeks.
Now I’m retired and holidays mean screaming brats in the supermarkets owned by harassed and tired parents with little patience. It does have its advantages though in less traffic on the roads in the morning and middle afternoon because there are no school runs.
Living in a holiday resort has major drawbacks with seasonal visitors who flock to the seaside like locusts and invade our natural beauty spots. They don’t clear up after them or their dogs, are rude to shop staff and residents alike, and stuff their pudgy faces with chips and burgers as their guts hang over their belts and backsides sag over benches. Their kids are out of control, into everything, and get away with bad behaviour.
On the beach, you can hear the lard sizzle as these holiday makers strip to the barest of material to toast their flab on the sand and turn a brighter shade of crimson, then have difficulty walking. It is not pretty, even when they cover up.
Residents here dread April and welcome October when we get our town back.
What do holidays mean to me these days?
Stop the world, I want to get off.