Saturday, August 18, 2012
The property also comes equipped with a private heated pool, brick BBQ, table tennis and billiard tables, and is a mere 600 yards from the sea.
So where's the catch I hear you cry.
Strictly speaking, there is none.
I should by now be just counting down the days, thinking of my fortnight's escape from work and the drudgery of the Central Line, and ... er ... that's about it.
Instead I am rushing around in an mad-arsed attempt to get some sort of a summery kit together before I actually go.
Because I dont have anything to bring.
Not that I spend all my time unclothed. Never mind the country's laws on that topic, my very own personal sense of decency blocks me from taking part in such heinous activities (for which we can all be thankful).
To explain : I actually do have a wardrobe (albeit of the small variety) and a dresser which is full of clothes. However, the majority of them are not summery and, although I do love my traditional ensemble of jumper, jeans and boots (which are just the thing for a trip to New York, for example) I'm going to look a bit odd trying to carry off that outfit in the Balearics. Not to mention sweaty.
So, having resigned myself to the fact that, yes, I am going to have to purchase some more in the way of skin revealing clothing (shudder) and that, yes, I may even have to bare my legs to the air (gasp) I am now buying, returning, ordering and exchanging as quickly as I can so that I dont end up bringing just one summer outfit. And a pair of sandals.
Which I know is what you're supposed to take. Look at any magazine article about holiday dos and donts and you're gonna find a section somewhere about how you can take one dress with you but with a few deft twists of plastic, wire and feathers, can have enough outfits for the entire holiday. Or something.
But I cant survive on bare minimums. I need a certain amount of stuff to bring a sense of comfort in unfamiliar surroundings. And as I am Ms Winter Wardrobe and not Ms Summer Sizzler that has dictated the last few weeks of panic buying. And the next fortnight's mix of frantic online ordering, crying, returning, swearing and exchanging until the day I arrive at the villa and, on opening my case, realise that everything I've acquired is actually unsuitable and I spend the whole of the holiday crying in the pool and wishing I was dead.
Still, it'll be nice to have a break.