ANOTHER BREAK FROM ADULTING? DON’T MIND IF I DO

My weekends sometimes feel more like a 30-minute lunch break. Don’t even try to get me to relax on a Sunday, I spend most of it anxious about Monday.

And yet, a recent weekend was as restorative as a fortnight, all thanks to a change of scenery and some tremendous company.

We can all be guilty of hatching plans and not actually following through.

Adulting M-J style is spending months texting back and forth with friends saying “I’m not free that Saturday, can you do the next one?”.

And I am the first to admit when I organise something, I can be filled with dread when the date finally comes round.

The wave of panic and ream of excuses roll through my head like credits at the end of a movie… sorry, I’ll have to cancel tonight – I’ve just bought a new soap powder and need to see how my laundry smells when the machine finishes. Have fun though! But not this time.

A while ago, my “Tiree Ladies” and I decided we would go on a pre- Christmas jolly. We knew jet-setting off to sunnier climes was unlikely but wanted to feel we had really gone somewhere, and not nipped locally for an overnight jaunt.

Dates were agreed, nothing short of a miracle, and our destination chosen. Train tickets and Airbnb booked. This might yet happen, if pesky Covid didn’t stop play.

We were confident passenger locator forms and the like were not required to cross the border for a mere 48 hours. Mind you, as this is the first pandemic in history where human behaviour and NOT medical science is the limiting factor for success, we could only cross our fingers and wait.

York, with all its history (read bars), was within our grasp, a mere three-and-ahalf-hour train journey away. Cases packed. Buffet lunch and a wee cheeky tipple for the journey all arranged. Imagine our surprise when the announcement came over the tannoy system to tell us it was a “dry” train until we reached Newcastle. Oops.

We were yet to firm up plans for dinner once we arrived, but after scooping up some G&Ts we didn’t care – a lesson for us all right there, I believe.

The accommodation was great and right near the centre of town. A selfcatering Airbnb is always preferable – in my opinion. I might be 45 years old, but I still have cold sweats worrying over bankrupting my family if I were ever to consume an item from a hotel minibar.

We made it to a cracking street food venue where the pre-teen door steward scanned us in and pointed us in the direction of our table.

QR codes revealed all the options available to us within this one magical foodie portal and by the time my companions had read and reread all the options, I’d managed to order some cocktails to be delivered to the table. I might not know how to use TikTok

and I might have raised the average age of the clientele in the venue by some 25 years BUT I can write in cursive, tell the time on clocks with hands and can always, ALWAYS order cocktails.

Having not been to York since my P7 school trip, I was quickly reminded how truly lovely it is.

We walked, we chatted, we ate, we drank, we laughed. Without hurry or agenda. The weekend slowly revealed itself to us and we were reminded how it felt to take a

step back. Cake and pastries might make you a little fat. Wine might ruin your liver. Spending money on pretty

things might demolish your savings. BUT we decided to enjoy life anyway. I’ve reached the conclusion reckless spending is in my DNA, so I’ll just have to work harder to step back more often. I love that people I didn’t even know this time a few years ago are now some of the best people in my life.

New friends, who become like family, are always joyous and so welcome in addition to those I’ve loved for years.

I hope you know, if you were ever a close friend of mine, at any point in my life, I think about you and always wish you are happy, safe and well, and still amazing.

A selfie of the ‘Tiree Ladies’ enjoying themselves in York.