T
HE July holidays are almost upon us, and many families will be looking forward to getting away from it all. You’d be wise though, before you set out, to cast your mind back to January, just after you’d returned from your yearend holidays. You were relaxed, refreshed and — let’s be honest — maybe more than a little bit broke. Right?
You were probably also a little confused. After a week or two of doing not much at all, how on earth did you manage to be quite so cleaned out?
Blame the temporary suspension of normal standards and budgeting instincts commonly known as Holiday Goggles. Here’s how it happens: Souvenir silliness. This is where you can’t stop shopping for stuff you would never normally buy and will (I have scientifically tested this one) never use once back home.
British PM herself, Theresa May, on a holiday in Wales in April, was spotted buying a Celtic ring and some coasters in the Celf Aran Arts shop in Dolgellau. Textbook Holiday Goggles.
The ring cost £32 (about R550). She won’t wear it once the holiday is over, because back in Downing Street it will look out of place.
We’ve all been there. It’s no reflection on the ring, which may well be excellent. It’s just that it has no post-holiday life.
Same with the bellows you buy in the souk in Marrakech. That tie-dye T-shirt from Thailand. Your name on a piece of rice from anywhere. The moonstone pendant. The strip of leather bracelet with a charm.
Even worse, some of you will decide it’s “getting ahead” to buy a whole load of Christmas presents — usually novelty pottery, silly T-shirts, jewellery that will have oxidised by November …
Pre-holiday preparation. This is mainly peculiar to females. Men can go on holiday with a toothbrush and a Jack Reacher; women like to go on holiday as if starting a new life, from scratch, in Monterey, California, with Nicole Kidman and co for neighbours.
We have to buy quality eyelash curlers (never used thus far, but that’s no obstacle), the right shade of red lipstick (same), laxatives and bunger-uppers, useful and not-useful footwear.
Something yellow. Scarves. Better sunglasses. Books. Eye drops. Hair ties. Flossing sticks. Plasters. Pens. Exfoliating gloves. Cough sweets. Antihistamine. Omega 3 (we’ll remember to take them on holiday and we will come back renewed). That’s R800 at Dis-Chem, minimum.
Then we have to have a pedicure, a wax, a fake tan, a haircut and hair-dye. If an airport is involved, we are buying BB creams with SPF, eyebrow pencils, white watches, maybe some scent — something fresh and lemony for our new life.
Cooking like Stein. On holiday, many of us eat way above our pay grade. Holiday Goggles means you’re thinking, or trying really hard to think, like Rick Stein. You’re strictly local, authentic and fresh, and buying the proper 12-year-aged balsamic vinegar. Back in your real life, you would never dream of shelling out for swordfish, now you are eating it raw with a pomegranate jus and shaved fresh almonds. Similarly you have upped your maximum wine price limit by R100.
Replacing things you forgot to bring. Trainers. Cool bags. Toothbrushes. Shaving cream. Beach towels (towels sold near beaches are roughly the price of gold leaf). Then there’s the equipment you have to get in situ. Wetsuit hire. Bikes. Water pistols. Footballs. Those shoes for walking on pebbles.
Honestly, it doesn’t bear thinking about. —© The Daily Telegraph