It's that time of year again where we try to decide where we want to go on holiday. We have just returned from a weekend visit to my stepdaughter and her husband where we slept in their spare room on a bed that was just a little too small and just a little too hard and in a room with no bedside tables. This has prompted me to thinking, "Do we really want to go away?" Why not holiday here at home and just go somewhere different every day, then at least we can come home each night to a lovely comfortable bed with our own memoryfoam mattress, where the pillows are just at the correct height and the bedside light is just at the correct angle for reading at night. Where there is a beside table to hold my spectacles and my glass of water and where I can slob around in my housecoat when I get up in the morning until after breakfast.
Maybe I'm just getting old?
