Holidays abroad. Never really what they are cracked up to be in my opinion. But then in my experience it always rains. It could be Corfu in September or Spain and Greece in August. It didn’t just rain for an hour to clear the air. It was torrential and for days. There’s not a lot to do in holiday spots when it pours down but wish you were back home.
Some people count down the days every year until their next two weeks abroad, Wishing their lives away and then plunging into depression when they get back. This isn’t how life should be lived.
Some people are addicted to holidays. St narcissi certainly was. Well it spiced up her boring life of doing nothing. She actively latched on to men who paid for them on a regular basis. Four men I can think of just off hand. A right proper jet setter. Adding extra weeks on a whim because some bloke was paying for the holiday and the social were paying the rent so why the hell not?
The best holiday by far though was the one to the Dominican Republic. She went and came back and went again. For weeks. Left her three daughters in the hands of a young gay chap not much older than them. All to be with a man who made bracelets on the beach during the day but at night pimped young women out to the fat, old men tourists. Her precious dog had to be put in kennels as the ex boyfriend she’d left her with could only look after her for so long. I’m not sure he even knew he was an ex at this point but that was par for the course. He was mortified and desperate to contact her. So was I for that matter.
She still bangs on about it today on social media. Like she was some globe trotting, life living adventurer. ‘’I’ve lived life me, I’ve done things’’.
Oh she did alright. One of her daughters had counselling later. To help get over the anxiety of being left with no food or money or mother.