Some are holidays

In the same way that some of us have a tendency to peruse the menu meaningfully for a few minutes in an Indian restaurant before opting for what we always have, choosing a holiday can become a fairly predictable affair despite the wide variety of possibilities available in these spoiled times. Good.

The humungous cruise ship The Legend of the Seas has just parked up (I know) in Malaga and as you stare at it goggle-eyed, two things happen. First, you get a cricked neck and, secondly, you wonder who on earth would choose to do that for a fortnight as a leisure pursuit when there are a thousand better options available e.g. stay at home and read a book. Still, up to 7,600 people are on there playing quoits or whatever, having decided that that is how they’d like to spend their time and money. Enviable to some, incomprehensible to others (e.g. me).

Camping is at the other end of the spectrum; far from having everything laid on for you on a silver platter, you’re obliged from the get-go to fight tooth and nail in order to extract an iota of comfort from the ordeal. (I did go camping once and very nearly understood why some people might choose to take a cruise. Only very nearly, mind).

And then there’s skiing. Up to the top of the mountain and - Wheeee! - all the way down again. Up to the top of the mountain and... actually, come to think of it, wasn’t Sisyphus condemned to doing much the same thing in Greek mythology as a punishment? And yet, about 200 million people actively participate in this malarkey every year. That’s about the total population of Brazil, although they’ll stick to the Samba if they’ve got any sense.

Beach holidays are another one. As we headed back to the village on the bus the other day, the driver wafted his hand towards swathes of people lying prostrate on the sand under a hammering sun and asked of no-one in particular “Why would anybody want to do that?” thus provoking a heated debate among the passengers concerning the relative merits of burning yourself to a crisp as a leisure pursuit. Well, I say ‘heated debate’, it was more a question of everyone yelling at once and nobody listening with not a soul having budged an inch on their original position as we clambered off at our destination. The driver wore the battered look of a man who’d opt to say nothing next time.

Anyway, this year I’ll choose the same holiday as always because it’s so thoroughly enjoyable: visiting family and friends, pootling around the countryside, pootling around the city, sitting in pubs, reading newspapers and books. It doesn’t get any better than that.

Oh - two poppadoms to start and then lamb madras with pilau rice in case you were wondering.

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