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Two weeks (and a day) from now I’ll be off on holiday. It’ll be my first break in ten months - the longest stretch between holidays for years - and I can’t wait. These last few days I’ve been getting up at six so I can do a couple of hours’ work before going into work. It’s quite nice, actually. The sun is up and it’s warm enough to have the windows wide open, and you can watch the world waking up. It does mean I’ve not been swimming in over a week, though, so I have a serious case of gym guilt going on.

It’s kind of booked. Well, bits of it, anyway. The flight to Faro, and the first week’s villa. After that it’s on to Seville by either train or bus (most likely bus as the line doesn’t yet stretch across the border) and then Madrid, Barcelona and, eventually, Provence. Nothing after Faro has been booked yet. It can’t be too tricky to buy train tickets in Spanish, can it?

The stupid thing about it all, though, is the only bit that will take place in the UK - the Eurostar trip home. Paris to London - single - is

This entry was posted on Thursday, July 22nd, 2004 at 10:34 pm and is filed under Journal. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.