Is there anything more stressful than going on a family holiday? Probably, but right now it doesn’t feel that way. Sunday morning we’re flying off to the Canary Islands for a much-needed vacation in the sun, and I do look forward to ten days of not having to do much other than swim, read, eat and sleep.
It’s the week leading up to our sunshine holiday that is stressing me out.
My to-do list seems to grow longer for every item I check off and I feel as if I am racing against time…and losing.
Admittedly, some of the items on my list are minor and hardly deserving of any stress; others are slightly more important, such as making sure my GP prescribes me a pack of Heparin-filled syringes, which I need to inject myself with before flying. It’s a necessary precaution since having an unexplained pulmonary embolism a couple of years ago.
“Shoes! The kids need new shoes!” The realisation hit me in the middle of the night as I lay sleepless in bed. I’d completely forgotten to check whether last year’s summer shoes still fit them, which on inspection they did not since my precious offspring have exceedingly fast-growing feet.
Then there’s the matter of our 10-year old daughter’s exam revision. On the last day of the term, she came home with her school bag filled with exercise books and revision lists and with strict instructions from her teachers to spend at least half an hour a day doing revision during the spring holiday. Half an hour isn’t much, but that means it’s even more important to be organised and to have an effective method of revising.
“I’ll make revision cards for her,” I thought and bought a pile of index cards to write on. But it takes a very long time to copy all the important stuff onto cards that are easily readable to a child who also happens to have dyslexia. And two nights on, I’m nowhere near finished. I have, on the other hand, learned (or re-learned, I should say) a lot about the circulatory system, solar system, English grammar, and French verbs.
“As long as you have your passports, tickets and money” you’re ok, someone said cheerfully to me. “The rest you can buy there, should you forget to pack something.”
“Money!” We need some local currency, of course, Euros in this case, so yesterday I rushed to the post office, hoping that Mrs May’s triggering of Article 50 a few hours earlier wouldn’t affect the exchange rate too badly.
Speaking of pounds and euros, aside from the leisurely hotel stay, what I am really looking forward to, is some time away from the craziness of Brexit. During the past months, I’ve lost far too much sleep over Brexit and its implications for me, an EU citizen living in Britain. Will I get deported? Should I apply for permanent residence status? Or even British citizenship?
Never mind that, I’m going to sunny Tenerife in a few days’ time, and I won’t let Brexit ruin my holiday.
Now where the hell are our passports?