Decisions, Decisions

So, what’s it to be, Leanne? New Zealand or Mexico?’

‘Honestly, I’m not bothered. You decide. Just think, if I was Kate Moss and you were Kate Winslet, we’d be spending our holidays sunbathing and diving off a yacht in the South of France. Or a Caribbean island.’

‘If we were either of those two, we wouldn’t have just polished off two giant Cornish pasties and a couple of cream doughnuts for our lunch.’

‘I had a Belgian bun, actually. There’s less calories in them.’

‘Yeah, right! And it’s fewer, not less. What about your latte grande? With extra sprinkles?’ ‘Whatever.’

‘OK, come on Leanne. We’ve got to make a decision. If you’re seriously not bothered,

I vote we just go for Australia.’

‘No way, Stacey. We did Australia last time. I don’t understand what’s so great about the place anyway. Far too hot, and you can’t move for sharks and killer spiders.’ ‘OK. How about Iceland?’ ‘You have got to be joking! A tenner for a half of lager, discos in a converted igloo and flights all cancelled ’cos of volcanoes blocking out the daylight for weeks. I don’t think so.’

‘As far as I can recall from my GCSE Geography, igloos are mainly found among the Inuit people of the Arctic and Greenland. Besides, I’m reliably informed that Iceland is renowned for being stylish and metropolitan these days.’

‘Staceeee! You are kidding me. Have you ever seen a Björk video? I reckon we should go for somewhere stylish, metropolitan and warm. Like Rome, Venice, Cannes – places where the beautiful people go.’

‘Leanne, I take it that even you have heard of the Eurozone crisis? And Brexit? Can you imagine getting stranded under a makeshift tarpaulin tent in Palermo, while the hotel is being demolished to pay off the owner’s bank loan? In my opinion, it’s safer to concentrate on places further afield. Mainstream, but classy.’ ‘OK, where do you suggest?’ ‘The Seychelles?’”

‘Too expensive.’

‘South Africa?’

‘Too sporty.’

‘Japan?’

‘Too much seafood.’

‘Give me strength! Right, So, we’re talking about somewhere recession-friendly. Good beach. No history of tsunamis. It’s got to be somewhere exotic.

But safe. No risk of pirates.’ ‘Aberystwyth?’

‘Shut up, you daft bat.’ ‘Nothing wrong with Aber. My gran went there year after year. Still goes on about the cliff railway. Mind you, she used to like Barmouth as well – lovely golden sands, and dead near the mountains. And the place where they made that telly programme, The Prisoner.’ ‘Portmeirion.’

‘Seriously, though, we never consider holidays in the UK?’

‘I suppose you do have a point. Plenty of seaside resorts. Barmouth, like you say. Bournemouth, Blackpool.’

‘Hey, Stace, have you realised how many of them start with B? Funny that.’

‘You’re right. Bude, Bognor Regis, Bridlington.’

‘Bridlington. Isn’t that where England’s greatest living artist used to live?’ ‘David Hockney.’

‘That’s the bloke. Paints trees. Big time.’

‘That’s as may be, Leanne, but I can reveal that most of those trees were painted in a freezing lane, in pouring rain and a force nine gale. Don’t forget, you’d always see Hockney wearing an overcoat, three scarves and a flat cap. There is a reason for that.’ ‘How do you mean?’ ‘Because he lived in not-so-sunny Bridlington!’

‘But isn’t he the one who does pictures of fit, tanned blokes diving into swimming pools in the blazing sunshine?’

‘I think you’ll find he did those years ago. In California.’ ‘Now you’re talking, Stacey! Why don’t we go there?’

‘You know I’m vetoing the States for a while. Always a bit dodgy in hurricane season. Remember how we got our fingers burned with Florida? All those promises. Miles of white sand, Disney World, sunset dining out on the Keys. What happens? One of the worst storms in years.’ ‘Which one was it, again?’ ‘Katrina. Although that was New Orleans. Which is another place to cross off the list, for that very reason. We don’t seem to be getting anywhere. Maybe we should go for somewhere more unusual, a bit out-there, you know.’

‘Libya? Afghanistan? The Falkland Islands?’

‘Now, you’re just being silly. You know what I mean. Interesting. Foreign, but not too foreign. None of your Vietnams or South Koreas.’

‘Actually, I’ve always quite fancied South Korea. But maybe I’m confusing it with South Carolina. Joke!’

‘Right, that’s it. I’ve had enough. Chuck me that latest guide to faraway places. I’m going to stick a pin in and...

Oh, hello, Mr Parker! Back from the dentist already? Yes, we’ve nearly finished. Done the exchange-rate display; ditto the cut-price and last-minute offers. All we’ve got to do now is the other window, with a big promotion poster for next month’s featured destination. We’re torn between New Zealand or Australia.’

‘Or Bridlington.’

‘She’s only joking, Mr P. You know how Leanne likes her little jokes. That’s why she’s somehow managed to put the Club 18-30 brochures on the Saga shelf. Again. Perhaps you could sort that out, Leanne?’

‘Whatever!’

They needed somewhere recession-friendly, with a good beach and that was safe. No risk of pirates ‘Have you realised how many holiday resorts start with B?’

THE END