Holiday hell
SUSAN CALMAN CAN JUST ABOUT TOLERATE A HOLIDAY, AS LONG AS IT’S NOT WITH HER FRIENDS
It’s summer time (apparently). The few weeks, when I throw off my winter wardrobe of du?e coat and wool polo neck and throw on my summer wardrobe of linen du?e coat and cotton polo neck. The truth is, of course, that I’ve never really been that fond of the summer season. The heat, the excessive exposure of body parts and, most depressingly, the pressure to have fun with friends.
PHOTO STEVE ULLATHORNE, ILLUSTRATION FERNANDO SAFONT
Of course I have friends, and not just ones on Facebook either. Proper friends, some of whom I’ve met on more than one occasion. But even though I am, and have always been, surrounded by lots of lovely people in my life, I’ve never, ever, been on holiday with any of them. One of those holidays you read about in magazines or see on BBC3, where 10 or so mates go abroad and drink lots and get up to highjinks. And I’d never really thought it was unusual until I was swapping holiday stories with a colleague recently. She was utterly horrified that I’d never experienced that bonding experience of painful sunburn and vomiting into a swimming pool.