I could be in Tenerife right now. I’m sure the sun is shining and the waves are glittering, but I’m not there, and I’m glad! The problem with other places is the getting to them. Hours of checking in and checking out, passports, cramped seats and jampacked flights full of people you hope never to see again are just the prelude. Then there is the location of the hotel. Then there is the finding of the place you so hopefully booked, so long ago, which looked such a great deal, but turns out to be hours away again from where you expected, adjacent to a motorway and next to a noisy bar and under some piledriving construction.
I know where my houses is, and I like it. The wind may be roaring, the sun intermittent, fretful and only momentarily glorious, but the bed is comfortable, the food and wine to my taste, and the cats on the sofa are relaxed and purring, purring.
The mad March wind blows the first spring flowers up and away into a noisy maelstrom . Rain splatters against the windows and into my face as I race into the garden to chase a flying garden chair, but I right now I wouldn’t rather be anywhere else and I don’t regret my cancelled holiday for a moment.
There goes the bin over again, but here comes the sun and I think that was a rainbow!