Bikini? I’ll pack a fleece for my holiday this year
When rapper Kanye West declared presidential ambition, I rolled my eyes and muttered about “cynical publicity stunts”.
I’m no fan.
But my teenage boys believe he’s a genius. They dream of owning a pair of his £1000
Yeezy trainers. And they were so distressed to see him raving and weeping in a public address, clearly in the grip of mental illness. Wife Kim Kardashian feels “powerless” as he struggles with bipolar disorder. Many will know that feeling.
All the fame and money in the world but, like so many others, what Kanye really needs is help.
I hope he gets it.
At last! After four months fearing we’d see nowhere more exotic than the end of our street, restrictions have been eased to such an extent that – at the time of writing, at least – we could even go to Spain, our usual destination of choice, without fear of quarantine.
Give it a minute, though. All that could change while we’re relaxing with a jug of sangria on a sunkissed balcony.
Oh, how we’ve dreamed of a fortnight in Majorca… the sweeping beach at Puerto Pollensa, strolling the promenade in the evening warmth. Utter bliss.
Also at the time of writing, it is bucketing down here in Glasgow and I’m cursing the error of leaving cushions on my garden chairs overnight. First-world problems, eh?
It is freezing cold and I’ve just put on a fleece (on top of my jumper) in order to avoid switching on the central heating, ’cause that’s practically illegal in late July. A getaway is definitely in order.
Have we booked a flight to Palma, then?
No. We’ll be driving up to Pitlochry, actually.
Have we been masked up shopping for bikinis and swim shorts? Will I spend a fortune on sunscreen and aftersun? Am I panicking that my personal grooming will not stand up to beach scrutiny and may, in fact, frighten small children?
No to all of that. We’ve found a wee cottage somewhere in the Perthshire countryside, a place that accepts pets and grandparents and where my recent failure with a home eyebrow-dyeing kit will attract only hilarity and not criticism.
Because when it came right down to booking, we just weren’t ready to do the foreign trip. Some may say we’re scaredycats. I prefer don’t-care-dy-cats.
It’s now looks like so-called “air bridges” to so-called “safe” countries could collapse when you’re still on the other side, trying to get home. The situation really is that volatile.
The First Minister’s decision to remove the 14-day quarantine for those returning from Spain seemed bizarrely out-of-step with her usual wary approach. Restrictions were lifted just as Bojo began considering whether to eject Spain from England’s “safe” list following a tripling of the rate of Covid infection in some parts of the country and lockdown being reimposed in others. As a rule of thumb, when even gung-ho Johnson starts showing caution, it’s time to worry.
Now, I understand that members of the beleaguered tourist industry are desperate for uninhibited travel to return. Operators are struggling terribly, representatives are being wheeled out to plead their case and there must be extreme pressure on the Scottish Government to give them a break. No one wants to see businesses fold.
But, frankly, we’re all struggling. And the worst thing we could do, as we try to find the confidence to resume anything like normal activities, is to bring the virus back from a foreign holiday it wasn’t necessary to take. Not when we’re so close to elimination of the bug. The closure of businesses is bad news. But illness and death is tragedy. If Covid has done anything, it’s given us a sense of perspective and made us reassess the “importance” of behaviour and purchases that we once thought crucial to our lives.
Turns out, we don’t need to buy new clothes every week so the Primark queue isn’t really worth the wait. A summer holiday needn’t involve a flight, a starvation diet and the humiliation of in-salon hair removal. Personally, I’ve discovered eyebrows sometimes look better undyed.
There will be fall-out from the many disruptions that coronavirus has caused but all that matters is that we do our best to protect what we cherish the most – people.
It’s a while till we leave and (deliberately) I haven’t checked the long-range forecast. We’ve already accepted we may not be going (Cliff Richard-style) to where the sun shines brightly. But it will be beautiful.
So I’m off to book a Tesco delivery to a wee cottage in Perthshire. Anyone know if they stock sangria…