I have been trying to think of a name for this “between trips” blog post and completely failed. In a moment of weakness, I resorted to asking AI. It produced an avalanche of dreadful suggestions clearly written by something that has never unpacked a suitcase in its life. However, buried in the nonsense were two that made me smile: Twixtrips and Domestic Layovers.
For now, we’re going with Twixtrips. It sounds faintly glamorous, which is generous.
We’ve had a whole 24 days at home since flying back from Hong Kong. It took me a solid eight of those to get over the jet lag. Eight days. Apparently my body clock now operates on “confused pensioner in an airport lounge” time.
Since we’ve been back, we’ve been counting down — not to this trip — but to Karen’s hip replacement. She’s in increasing pain and is finding walking any real distance difficult, which is understandably getting her down.
That said, she has still been going into work at different schools a couple of days a week. Yes, I know. I’ve mentioned it. More than once. But she cannot be told. The hip may be failing, but the stubbornness remains in peak condition.
The weather has been grim (bar two teasingly perfect spring days), which did nothing to help Karen in her campaign against the mountain of washing we brought home. I’m fairly sure some of it has formed its own ecosystem.
We both renewed our gym memberships at a reduced cost thanks to our student cards — proof that ageing is largely administrative. Karen has resumed her determined marching up and down the swimming pool, which she says helps with pain and mobility. It looks less like a swim and more like a very focused border patrol.
Karen had a lovely day with Ellie finding the perfect dress and hat for the wedding later in the year. Apparently, sorting out my suit is now high on the agenda once this trip is over. I sense my role in that outing will be largely decorative.
The 24 days at home also included four home matches for the Canaries at Carrow Road. Remarkably, it is now a pleasure to visit. The big man has the team performing and — brace yourselves — has made football fun again. We hardly know how to behave.
Not that we enjoy cramming things in, but we also managed five theatre visits in those 24 days. Dear England was the highlight, closely followed by Buddy. We are now officially very cultured, as long as no one quizzes us in detail.
We did manage a lovely day out to visit the snowdrops at Walsingham Abbey.
There was also the small matter of Karen and Neil’s birthdays, celebrated in suitable style. Karen is still not entirely satisfied that I considered the flowers I bought her for her birthday to also cover Valentine’s Day four days later. Personally, I call that strategic efficiency. She calls it something else.
Our family and friends seem to have an unusually high number of February birthdays. There must be something about May. Long evenings? Optimism? Nothing else on television?
With everything else going on, I only managed a couple of pickleball sessions and one round of golf. Frankly disappointing. My athletic peak continues to be theoretical.
Try as I might, I didn’t spend as much time outside doing “jobs” as I’d hoped. This is the time of year when I yearn to wrestle the garden back under control. Instead, the silver lining of the poor weather meant I spent more time researching Part 2 of “the book”. I have actually written the first 500 words, which feels significant.
If I thought writing Part 1 was hard, this is many times worse. I no longer have the “letters” as base material — I’ve used those up — so now it’s just me, my notes, and an alarming number of rabbit holes. My research has taken me off on so many tangents that even I occasionally forget what the original question was.
I feel slightly like the Prime Minister at the start of PMQs in saying that, in addition to all this, I have had numerous catch-ups with family and friends!
And so onto this trip — to sunny Lanzarote. Or at least that was the brochure version. Ever the optimist, Karen has been monitoring the weather apps and gently suggesting that “sunny” may be aspirational.
This is one of our hand-luggage-only trips, which always stresses Karen beforehand. It’s like watching someone prepare for an expedition to Everest, except the summit is a four-star hotel. The cost of adding a suitcase was £90, and even she baulked at that. That’s nearly a round of airport coffees.
Our flight was at 8.40am. When we booked it, we confidently declared we would simply get up early and drive the 90 minutes to the airport on the day. Sensible. Efficient. Mature.
Somehow, however, we also managed to book tickets to see Chris McCausland the night before without joining the dots. That prompted a swift rethink and an airport hotel booking so we could drive straight there from the theatre.
Karen had what can only be described as a spirited reaction when she realised I had booked the Days Inn Hotel. All the other hotels were disproportionately expensive because, naturally, we left it too late. She was convinced it would be riddled with bed bugs and that she would very likely be murdered in her sleep.
Spoiler alert: neither occurred.
It was absolutely fine. Essentially a Travelodge wearing a different badge. No insects. No crime. Mildly beige. Exactly what was required.
The Lanzarote blogs may cover 2 days at a time because as in the words of Del Amitri – Nothing ever happens other than us turning left or right!
