Why I hate going away in the summer, from PR Grouch

Don’t ask me about my holiday. Oh alright then, if you insist, I will tell you all about it.

It was hell. It cost me a fortune, the kids got sick and I was eaten alive by insects. I spent far too much time in airports and in a car with terrible suspension, rude drivers and bad air conditioning. So I have decided that I hate holidays. Here are a few reasons why:

Children. Mine cost me a fortune on holiday, they manage to find shops in the most deserted parts of the planet. As for other people’s children, we all know mine are still tolerable and yours? Well- you know what I mean!

Weather. You need perfect weather to enjoy a city. I find that I only get perfect cool weather when I am indoors and perfect hot weather when I am on a beach. Karma.

Travel. What is nice about travelling? Nothing.

Books. You have to take a good book on holiday, and there are plenty of brilliant books to choose from. How come, then, I always manage to pick something I get sick of after three chapters? Am still trying to struggle through ‘From Zero to Thirty’. Plus on a Kindle there really isn’t any swag value to showing off your reading list.

Other people. Is there anything worse than other Indians abroad? I sometimes worry I want too many freebies, but when I see other Indians carrying breakfast bread and butter for lunch I realise I am a model of restraint .

Going back to work. Having a break from the office doesn’t refresh me, I don’t rush back into the office full of renewed vigour and enthusiasm. And neither does anyone else. As I look up from my computer all I can see is a sea of other miserable faces. Although displaying their latest shopping, but miserable faces.

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