Dimensions
139 x 207 x 22mm
As every Grumpy Old Man and Woman knows, holidays are another way of keeping you all house-trained. They are civilised society's reminder that the tedium of everyday life is actually preferable to a fortnight spent in the company of nagging partners, other people's brats, bombastic in-laws and - worse still - people who can't speak English. As soon as you check in at the airport you are marooned in a sea of screaming babies, dull-faced hostesses and bland airport food. Count yourself lucky if your optimistic expectation of a good holiday is even remotely fulfilled.
There may be beautiful sunsets by the beach in the brochure, but you'll inevitably find that: a) you should have booked the neighbouring hotel; b) you picked the rainy/religious holiday/mosquito/plague infestation season; or c) you'll have had too much sex or food by the third or fourth day and be bored of each other, but there's no-one else to talk to, apart from monosyllabic waiting staff and the ubiquitous Russians.
