It occurred to me that we haven't really had a holiday this year. Since I came back from maternity leave in January, and save for a few long weekends here or there, we haven't really had a holiday this year. for what feels like 8 million decades.
And God only knows we need one. Far, far away.
In a week I fly to South Africa with Sebastian, and the Brit would've joined us a week later. In that time, I would be hen-partying, bridesmaid-dutying and marry-helping my best friend, The Dove, so it wouldn't really be a holiday holiday.
So I've changed our tickets back, and given us an extra week in South Africa, totalling three solid weeks of October and November sunshine in my motherland. I have the leave, I would've just finished off a load of big projects at work, and it may be the last time we head there before we pay full fare for Sebby.
It just had to be done.
I am getting ridiculously excited. It's just starting to get cold and grey around here, and we've yet to turn on the heating (pyschological barrier), but I think a good injection of Vitramin D would do us the world of good. A
I am in the middle of my citizenship application (application4Dayzzzz. It's now been almost 3 months of processing, and usually, I'm told, it should take 2. So God knows when I'll eventually see my British passport...), but as a result I can't really travel to Europe. Because all of the pages in my Saffa passport are taken up, and so I can't even apply for a Schengen visa. Which means, I am perpetually kind of stuck on the island for a while.
And of course, everyone I know went to Greece or sodding Croatia this last summer.
My dreams (viz below - even the strangem reoccurring ones) have been overtaken by dreams involving the Bahamas, and crystal clear blue waters, and cocktails and swanky airport lounges. We just need a BREAK. From life.
And yes, any Caribbean holiday companies offering amazing deals to Saint Lucia or the Dominican, I'm all ears.
One week until I fly. Crawling, and pulling and forging my way towards Wednesday next week. When I take on a 12 hour flight with a toddler on my lap.
I've been told to keep my "expectations extremely low" for how this might pan out.
And take a tablet and lots of stickers. And a tranquiliser gun.
How on Earth will my squirming little worm-child sleep for even five minutes on my lap??