Blue bird...

The husband and I have been suffering post holiday blues, and both of our Mondays were a bit of a letdown after our weekend caravanning extravaganza.

The husband deals with his holiday blues in a couple of ways.  Sulking is his favourite, rapidly followed by tantrums of Trumpesque proportion (without the Tango-Tan and small hands).  He went off to work yesterday dragging his feet and muttering under his breath, and when he came back home last night was only marginally better.  I did manage to cheer him up eventually by suggesting that we start investigating our destination for a week in September - his little face lit up and he said, 'Can we?' 

I'm sure that this is going to cause arguments of mammoth proportion as the discussions deepen.  This is because I fancy Suffolk and for some reason known only to the husband, he wants to go anywhere on the South coast where Poldark was filmed.  Now the husband is a manly chap who hails from the North (think Coronation Street) and this has caused some concern as to why he wants to frequent Poldark country.  I am hoping that it's down to the beaches and cliffs rather than anything else.  Mind you, I'm rather fond of the view, and what about that coastline....

Anyway, we have decided that our September jaunt will be a 'two centre holiday', just maybe not Suffolk and Cornwall which would have a three day drive between them.

Back to the holiday blues then.  I deal with this in a slightly different way in that I try and prolong that wonderful feeling of being away and doing different things.

To that end, I went to the supermarket last night and bought cider, poached salmon and some crusty bread.  I then went and sat in the airing cupboard to eat it with far from robust cutlery, desperately trying to replicate the feeling of living in 18 square metres for forty eight hours...

And don't get me started on the ablutions...