When I go on holiday alone, everyone wins
All this talk of solo holidaymaking is pretty old hat to me. I go away on my own every year. I’ve even abandoned all pretence that I’m writing a novel. Although if I ever finish it, you must buy it because it will be recordbreaking, if only in the sense it will beat the 17 years Tolkien took to write his Lord of the Rings sequel to The Hobbit.
Anyway, in November last year, I took a £14.99 flight to Memmingen in Bavaria, then a train to the gloriously pretty town of Lindau, on the shore of Lake Constance. It sounds terribly glamorous, but I skimped on my B&B accommodation so my room could best be described as somewhere between granny nostalgia and care home chic.
Perhaps that was what dampened my mood but, weirdly, for the first time ever, I didn’t feel emancipated. I felt a bit lonely.
That was entirely baffling because usually I am so grateful to flee family, life and family life for a week (they’re not halfrelieved, either) that I revel in every responsibility-free moment. Plus, I speak German and was chatting to everyone like an eager GCSE student.
So what was going on? According to the latest research from the Association of British Travel Agents, 15 per cent of adults travelled unaccompanied last year as “part of a strategy for staying sane”. Meanwhile, the rest are struggling with an epidemic of loneliness. Talk about a bipolar society.
I’m not sure how I managed to combine both existential crises in one mini-break, but it was quite mollifying. Maybe I set my sights too high?
Previously, I’ve gone to a rustic British barn in the middle of nowhere, with nothing to do but walk and sleep and eat local cheeses.
This year, I’m cheating by heading north to stay with friends in Glasgow. Still, I shall enjoy the undisturbed rail journey there and back; as every mother will confirm, a childless trip constitutes a giddy holiday in itself.
Will I ever return to Germany for some me-time? Absolutely. There are heaps of quasi-profound quotes about travelling alone and how, if you go far enough, you will (gulp) finally meet yourself. Even if it involves a frilly nylon counterpane.