Holiday reading

I had to (or thought I should) finish unloading the car and sorting out the camping gear this morning, because I had work this afternoon. This made me very cross, that we'd gone all that way and dragged out all the camping stuff for just two nights! Next year I will organise my summer holidays so that I get more consecutive days off, without spending them in a skip.

But, as they say "if you want to make fortune laugh, tell him your plans"

So, back at the rehab I had about seven new eager-puppy students as well as the new puppies of last week! Wow, that makes about nine plus one old timer. Hard work trying to stop people jumping all over the place and spilling things their eagerness to make aromatherapy potions. But I do love teaching, almost as much as I love the creative stuff. I've been teaching at the rehab for about nine years now, so I do know my subject and clientele.

Then my sister wanted me to book some family train tickets to Garve ( North East Scotland) from Preston, as I seem to be her unofficial travel agent. But I was too tired, and almost fell asleep during Pointless. So I have done little today, apart from sorting out the stuff and looking online for static caravans and the like in South Devon. Next time I think we should try the caravan or, heaven forbid, glamping experience, to see if it is easier for a short break. I felt a bit as if I'd turned into my mother on our trip: too much to do in the outdoor housekeeping department! Mind you, my real mum would have been rustling up a delightful concoction from Delia's summer collection, while I am a strictly bacon-and-eggs for breakfast,and Grazebox on the beach, type of provider!

This is one of the two books I read on holiday, sitting beside the OS map that we handily forgot to take! I howled with laughter, and was severely grateful [oxymoron] that my single-parent mother never tried to take all her six kids on a 1970s camping holiday! There was sleeping in static caravans, mind, and sleeping in the car, but that was only because there was not enough room for us all at our grandmother or great aunt's house/bungalow. They called us rent-a-mob, and wherever we went, a trail of car sickness was sure to follow. As soon as one of us had grown out of it, the next one came on stream.

Read the book, anyway...