Where are you, when you have a staycation?
The word has become more fashionable than ever, but I feel people have misunderstood. Maybe it’s the brainfog that comes after Covid? My brain is certainly fogging worse than ever.
A long time ago, mostly pre-Offspring, the Resident IT Consultant and I occasionally staycationed. This was for financial reasons, not being anywhere near as rich (cough) as we are now. But also, we felt we could quite like visiting places near us. For the day.
Because that surely is what it is? You stay at home. The same place as all the other days and nights of the year. And whether you have a picnic in the garden, if you have a garden, or get the bus to a nearby attractive spot, you sleep in your own bed. Or you might visit friends or family, if you have people in your vicinity. (We didn’t.)
Now it appears to mean that you haven’t gone abroad. People have had holidays – not staycations – for decades, never leaving the country, but paying for travel and hotels and meals out. Those weren’t staycations. They were holidays. Just not in Spain.
And of course, I have been known to travel outside Britain, without it being a holiday. That’s also a thing. Leaving the country you are a resident of does not equal a holiday. Not even if it’s not for business. Nursing a very ill relative isn’t much fun. Nor is going to their funeral, regardless of where it takes place.
Those outings we made from our house in Brighton; they were good. Sometimes we had to work out if the money would stretch to both bus fare and a cream tea. But I would say such a day was no less fun than Spain (we’re not the nightclub type).
You can tell I’m just a bit irritated, can’t you?
I went for a haircut the other day. I have this theory at the moment, that while it’s possible, I will go. Last December I was intending to, was ‘too busy’ one week and then we were locked down for quite a number of centimetres. Of hair.
Because I hate waiting I always arrive as close to the hour as possible. Easy, as it’s a two minute walk there. Hard, because one never knows if someone else is delaying them.
This time I had to sit and wait, and my hairdresser dragged a chair covered in magazines over to me. I did have Bookwitch on my mobile, but decided I could educate myself with a magazine. I think it was called Hello. It had the Duke and Duchess of Cambridge on the cover.
Ever since our last holiday in St Andrews in May, I have a problem with them. I can’t see a photo of Will and Kate without thinking ‘scones!’ and I did so this time as well. I already knew about the café where they reputedly used to hang out, falling in love and all that. But it’s always been at the wrong end of town for me, so I’d never patronised the place.
This time, however, we stayed two minutes walk away (a bit like the hairdresser…) so I ‘just happened’ to pop in a couple of times. It was too busy to eat in, or sit on the pavement, but perfect for getting a few scones to take back to our airbnb.
They were easily among the best I’ve ever eaten, and the best if I count more recent times. This is especially noticeable when most cafés overdo the raising agent, leaving me disappointed with the flavour.
So, Will and Kate’s scones rock. I can’t remember the name of the café, but Will and Kate is as good a description as any. And with every photo of them, my mouth waters. But all the hairdresser offered was tea or coffee. Maybe I should have asked?
Mine at last.
And believe me, a lot of swearing went into this book.