Holidays are great, but it’s the getting home part that really floats my boat
A week in Singapore might ease his wanderlust, but for Phil Brown the best part of his holiday is yet to come. Or go.
By the time you read this I will be In Singapore on holidays. Lucky me huh? Well, kind of.
I’m not a very good traveler (although I like being there) and despite my wanderlust I am usually ready to come home after only a few days. I can enjoy myself elsewhere but there’s nothing like the joy of arriving home. East west, home’s best, don’t you agree?
I remember some years ago we were going to England and France after my son finished school. He opted for London (with a side trip to Scotland) and Paris instead of Schoolies. Imagine our relief.
But to dodge Schoolies we had to go to the other side of the planet. Oh well, it was worth it though. Other people were more excited about our trip than I was.
One enthusiastic colleague sidled up to me in the newsroom just before we left and said: “You must be looking forward to your holiday. It sounds amazing.”
“Yes … but I can’t wait to get home,” I said. And we hadn’t even left yet!
We had a holiday in France again late last year and it was grand but boy was I happy to get home.
When I do walk in the front door I’m elated and the sense of relief at being home usually last a few days. It’s a kind of natural high.
I feel the same relief at the end of a three-hour musical at QPAC. Then, when I get home, I’m the happiest person in the street. Some people hang around for the after party but I’m content to be at home in my tartan dressing gown sipping tea and eating a digestive biscuit. Bliss.
I enjoy holidays and the theatre but mostly in retrospect. I think everything is better in retrospect.
I was lamenting having to go out in a foyer somewhere recently– I can’t remember exactly where – and I was asked this question.
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“Then why do you bother going out at all?”
I thought about it for a moment and shot back …. “So, I can go home again.”
The person I was talking to didn’t understand the logic of that rather existential statement but I’m sure some of you can.
Because travelling near and far or going out to the theatre or dinner or anywhere always ends with me arriving home, happy as Larry. Then I put the kettle on. What a life.
