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Holiday

We're off on holiday tomorrow to Italy. I've wanted to visit Pompeii for as long as I can remember, so kind of excited about that, not to mention the vast quantities of red wine I've been promised when we get to Puglia, our final destination. It's a bit of a family reunion since we're meeting up with Alpha's sister, her husband and their four kids, as well as my good friend The Harpenden Housewife, her husband and daughter.

Past experience tells me that when the cousins get together it's general chaos, rascally behaviour abounds and at some point all the kids will shed their clothes and smear themselves with mud (a la Lord of the Flies). I'm hoping they'll be happy to be chucked into the nearest olive grove with a stack of sandwiches and stern orders not to darken our door until the sun sets. Baby Belly excepted, of course.

The big problem though with this holiday is the amount of driving that has to be suffered through to get us from Rome to Pompeii and then on to Brindisi. Since I am ridiculously inept at reading a map and my sense of direction is legendary (and not in a good way), it's likely to be a crucial test of marital harmony.

What I am sure of is this:
  • At some point I will read the map upside down and send us in completely the wrong direction
  • Alpha will become tight-lipped, wild-eyed and start ranting about my general uselessness
  • I will cry
  • Alpha will accuse me of emotional blackmail 
  • Which will make me cry even more
  • Alpha will mutter darkly about the stupidity of his wife and how he wishes he were gay
  • The kids will then decide this to be the perfect time to hit/bite/insult each other and complain about being bored
  • Baby Belly will do an enormous poo; the nappies and wipes will of course be at the bottom of the pile of luggage, meaning I'll have to unpack the entire contents of the boot by which time the offending poo will have leaked everywhere and Belly will have to be washed and her clothes changed
  • Alpha will have a gigantic tantrum
  • I will immediately want to go home and regret ever suggesting a stupid holiday to stupid Italy with my stupid husband, then I will sulk for the rest of the day or at the very least until I am given a restorative glass of red wine and Alpha starts to smile again  
Happy holidays!

Comments

Helen said…
It can only be better than you imagine - you do make me laugh though. Bonnes vacances!
Plastic paddy said…
Enjoy the red, sounds like you'll be needing it!
Anonymous said…
Learn to read maps! It's EASY!
Anonymous said…
WOW! My idea of hell. A trip to Italy to see the sites sounds romantic. You get kids, nappies AND relatives thrown in! On the bright side, those Italian men are terrible flirts and might lift your battered morale. Just don't let the 'stupid husband' see what your'e up to!

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