Worse Things Happen At Sea

About seven months ago, Mr SB and I booked a holiday. Picture the scene: we have just returned from an idyllic week in a lovely well-appointed rental cottage in the Scottish Highlands. It has been peaceful. The sun has (occasionally) shone. There has been walking. There has been wildlife. There has been a peat stove. There has been Crabbie’s Ginger Beer. We have, in short, loved every second. So much so, in fact, that we decide immediately on our return to book a return visit at the start of the following summer.

After an agonisingly long wait, that second visit is now only three weeks away. Yesterday, however, we had a call to say that it has been cancelled. The owners have sold it, quickly and unexpectedly, and so we are no longer welcome.

The more superstitious among you (what are you even doing here? Shouldn’t you be fengshuing your chakras or something?) will have noticed that yesterday was Friday the Thirteenth. And to you I say: Bollocks. The date has nothing to do with it. Had Mr SB been unavailable to take the call, we would have found out on a different day. Maybe if we’d found out on Saturday the Fourteenth instead, we would have been a day too late to book an alternative. As it is, we’ve found one. So that was lucky, wasn’t it?

(This morning, I took my car for a service and MOT and deliberately parked it in Bay 13. That’s how unsuperstitious I am: I walk under ladders on purpose; I stand on cracks in the pavement. Because superstition is nonsense. The only reason that people believe bad stuff happens on Friday the Thirteenth is that they’re primed to be aware of it and so notice it more.)

Having your holiday cancelled at three weeks’ notice is upsetting. Yes, there were even a few tears. But I’ve posted before about the ridiculous exaggerated phrases that people use at times of such minor crisis, and so I refuse to be ‘devastated’ or ‘heartbroken’. I am merely ‘a bit upset’. Let’s keep a sense of proportion. After all, had I been alive 100 years ago, I might have been taking a holiday to New York, and that would have been really unlucky.

It wasn't Friday the Thirteenth then, either.


~ by somethingblonde on April 14, 2012.

2 Responses to “Worse Things Happen At Sea”

  1. I’m just wondering why you don’t have your own national newspaper slot. Been a joy finding your blog…thanks for the laughs.

    • Thanks very much, that’s really kind. I think people with national newspaper columns are expected to submit something more often than once every eight months, though… 😉

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