Following the ending of my relationship and slow acceptance of working for the entirety of summer, i’d somewhat accepted that any chance of a summer holiday had vanished. ‘Office job’ does not particularly scream bikini and cocktails on tap, so instead of building up a small fort of summer clothes, I’d gradually over time conditioned myself to enjoying work clothes – smart trousers, semi formal tops and *gasp* shoes that aren’t trainers.
Skip forward to last weekend, and my dreams of booking a spontaneous few days away have actually come true. This is surprising for everyone involved – it is one thing daydreaming of a mini group holiday and an entirely different thing actually organising, booking and taking part in it. That alone is the major reason why our romantic group weekend away quickly shrunk from eight of us to four, but a bit of repetitive, insistent bugging and the weeding out of the unreliable ones, and my holiday is booked.
Sure, it’s not the fortnight in Bulgaria that my sister is currently enjoying, or the travels around Thailand that I’ve seen many a Facebook friend post about, but I am determined to enjoy every waking hour of Prague – starting from the minute I get through passport control up until the second I step foot back onto the tarmac floors of Gatwick Airport.
The trouble now, of course, is that combined with a full time job, there are not enough hours in the day to enjoy the holiday preparation. I have not immersed myself in strolls around shopping centres and languid attempts to find the perfect pair of sunglasses. The latter may be slightly unnecessary this year on account of already taking three pairs with me on a five day holiday, but nonetheless I am disappointed that even this small pleasure has been taken from me.
Instead, I’m hurriedly learning basic Czech at my desk and paying over the odds for next day delivery from Topshop and ASOS. Gone are the days where I made holiday lists and lazily ticked one thing off a day. I leave on Thursday after work and my biggest issues at the moment are buying an adaptor plug (somehow not an essential to bring to London from Bedfordshire with me) and changing up some currency. I haven’t made a plane playlist, charged my Kindle or bought airport snacks. The most preparation I have done so far was to put off my perfume purchases to save them for the joys of Duty Free.
Packing, obviously, is a thing of the future and will most likely be done on Thursday in that brief 40 minutes between arriving home from work and leaving to get the train to Gatwick.