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It's Holiday Time (For Everyone Else)

It's Holiday Time (For Everyone Else)


We are inundated with visitors. Not just our lovely paying guests but the unofficial ones that want to stop off when passing through the south west to their actual destination. Which is usually Cornwall. Very rarely Torquay. They should try it some time. It’s about now that people we haven’t heard from since they last came a year ago suddenly remember our proximity to major A roads in the south west. There are some that naturally cry off when they realise the B&B is already booked by proper guests and the prospect of them slumming it in one of the kid’s beds is much less appealing. Then there are the real friends who don’t care that they are on a battered old chesterfield with a sunken middle and turn up with far too much alcohol for a one night payment.  Or the friends that did secure a spot in the B&B that we didn’t want any money from who left a wedge of cash in a brown envelope on the pillow. It is an odd thing to switch between professional landlady host and just host. To remember who to be joining for early evening drinks in the guest’s courtyard. Who doesn’t mind being woken by 3 children in football kits demanding a kickabout. Which car the children are allowed to play precarious basketball around. It is also at this point that I realise we haven’t booked a holiday and we jolly well need to. When all around us are having theirs. So after the last lot of visitors waved ta-rah at the weekend we got out the leftover crab, semi flat prosecco dregs and gift box chocolates, got a space on our own sofa and a clear broadband connection without teenagers buffering it and booked a holiday. Then checked the passports. And realised whilst we two grown ups could legally leave the country, the children would have to stay behind with one of those cat feeding trays that pops a lid each day. Cue urgent dash to large supermarket with photo booth. And a stool that would not extend high enough for an average height 5 year old. Even with his mass of curly hair I couldn’t get his moon face in the right zone. Until I stacked two cases of Tennents Strongbow from a neighbouring aisle and got him to cling on to the booth for dear life. The result is 5 replica shots of a small child, fear in his eyes, looking like he is about to slip down a precipice which indeed he was. Am hoping the passport office will look on us kindly. If I put my profession as B&B owner they may well just do that. This woman needs a holiday…

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