Change as good as a rest

I wrote this column shortly before departing for the airport and jetting off to a Greek island to watch my son tie the knot in, according to the brochure, idyllic surroundings.

And as I prepared to leave the rain of East Lancashire behind me, I was certainly looking forward to getting a bit of sun on my back.

But it would have to be said that there was more than a little trepidation in my bones as the SPF30 hit the suitcase.

First of all, there’s that nonsense which still defies logic called an aeroplane.

I know the physicists among you will wonder what I am going on about.

But when something bigger than the row of cottages I live in climbs to four or five miles in the air, I still cannot believe what is going on.

The plane I will be flying on is about 10 times the size of the last bus I caught – and I know how much that struggled up a few local hills, so how does something 10 times the size of that bus suddenly find itself flying about at 35,000 feet for four hours and 10 minutes?

But then, and here comes the crunch for me, comes the fact that I will be in a large hotel with hundreds of other people.

I think the biggest hotel I have ever stayed in before had about 80 rooms, it was quiet and you could do just about whatever you wanted to.

But for the last two weeks, I will have been in a much, much larger hotel which actually calls itself a holiday village.

And I will have had very little choice about what I eat.

I am by no means a fussy eater. But like everyone else, I know what I like and have always been able to get by on previous holidays.

I have holidayed on three continents, but never before in an all-inclusive resort.

I have always spent the first day scoping out surrounding restaurants and finding places where I know I will be able to fuel my holidays.

I know plenty of people who have stayed in exactly the same hotel and all the reports have been excellent.

But how will I have coped if there is only one item on the menu which tickles my fancy?