Search Results for 'holiday'

“You do exaggerate so, Finnley,” remarked Liz. “It was much longer than five minutes, and you chose to go when all the rest of the staff were on holidays too. Damned inconsiderate of you all, really! You’re lucky you still have a position here to come back to, my girl.”

Liz shuffled some papers on her desk in a businesslike manner and then blew the ensuing dust off her keyboard with a flourish.

“And don’t make those vile gestures behind my back.”

“what on earth are you on about?” asked Finnley. “I go away for 5 minutes …. 5 minutes,” she repeated with emphasis and several eye rolls, “and everything goes to pot. I have barely got over the horror of having to go on holiday and now I have this load of rubbish to contend with. I am, quite frankly, flabbergasted and dismayed.”

Aunt Idle:

One of the best things about going away is the pleasure of coming home. Never in a million years would I expect to miss dust, or overflowing ashtrays, but it was so good to see that familiar layer of dust all over everything.

I cut Maters grumbling short and lugged my case up to my bedroom, calling “Jet lag, speak later” over my shoulder. What was she on about anyway, two more twins from the past? It rings a bell, but I’ll think about that later. I hope she’s preparing a bit of dinner, some of that food in Iceland was ghastly, especially if you’re not a fishy sort of person.

Now all I want to do is get out of these clothes and into an old tattered T shirt ~ the oldest favourite, the black faded to greenish grey ~ and sprawl back on my bed smoking. Dropping ash on the bed cover watching the smoke and dust motes dancing in the shaft of warm sunlight. Stretching my limbs out unencumbered with layers of clothing and feeling the air on my skin.

Iceland is very nice in many ways, I took hundreds of photographs of the scenery and all, but shivering outside while quickly sucking down a lungful, or leaning out of an open window in the arctic blasts is not my idea of a relaxing holiday. Not that I went there to relax I suppose, which is just as well, because it wasn’t the least bit relaxing.

I drifted off to sleep, contentedly gazing at the stains on the ceiling that looked like maps of other worlds, vaguely recalling some of the names I’d made up for the islands and continents over the years, and woke up later dreaming of Fred, of all people. For a minute when I woke up I could have sworn he was standing right there next to my bed, watching me sleep. I blinked, trying to focus, and he was gone.

Liz perused the “jobs wanted” notices without much enthusiasm. It really was quite tedious with no staff around, and nobody to talk to. The thought of training new staff, was rather off putting, but the interviewing could be fun. Or perhaps a holiday, somewhere exotic.

“I know!” she exclaimed out loud, “I’ll go to Peasland!”

Suddenly a crash sounded from the cellar below. A muffled voice bellowed, “Somebody stop her!”

Aunt Idle wandered around, wondering where everyone was. Had everyone gone out on a day trip or a holiday? Had she forgotten? She clumped across the yard looking for Bert. If she could find Bert, he would know ~ but where was he? Her feet felt dry and heavy. I really must do something about those dry callouses, she thought ~ perhaps a long hot soak in the bath. But first, I must find the others.

Idle continued her search, but her legs began to feel like lead. Funny how some days gravity seemed so much stronger. It was becoming harder to put one foot in front of the other. What was it that guy on the internet had said about a lightness of energy? The unbearable lightness of being ~ well this was more like the unbearable heaviness of feet.

A pair of butterfly’s scampered through the air, fluttering and darting around Idle’s sticky dreads. Be light like the skipping of a butterfly, that guy had said. Hah! she croaked. Easy to say! Unable to walk any further, Idle grabbed onto a straight little eucalyptus sapling to hold herself up. Her fingers felt stiff and inflexible as she grasped the slender trunk.

It’s just too hard, she thought with a heavy heart. It’s too hard to move.

Twas the morning before the new year celebrations and all through the house, the creatures were stirring, with the noteworthy exception of the rodents.
Bea congratulated herself on her successful manoeuvres in the kitchen to disorient and discourage the rats, unaware that they had gone on vacation anyway, and planned to return after the holidays.

“I go away for a little holiday—and Flove only knows I deserve one—and the whole story falls to pieces. What a mess!” muttered Finnley crossly.
“I do think you are being a little harsh, Finnley,” sniffed Liz huffily. “But then you always were prone to exaggeration. It is all those ridiculous Lemonolol novels you read.”

When you get to the “bottom” of the barrel, and “life” seems tedious and ho hum, and like a hamster you go “round” and round, it’s time to make a comment out of the word cloud. Elizabeth felt that she had “opened” the floodgates and the “water” of unfettered garbling was “heard” for miles, or even light years. The new “project” to “ride” the package holiday trip to galaxies unknown, open to “queens”, commoners, and all and sundry, although not necessarily “parents”, was a mixed “bag” of “lost” marbles and elusive memories. You must position “yourself” in the “middle” of the story, notwithstanding the pre ordained itinery, which “usually”, although not always, creates an “abalone” type random insertion which one endeavours to have the “strength” and fortitude to decipher, despite the “fucking” configurations of the puzzle. One should always aim to place oneself “above” the puzzle, so to speak, in order to familiarize “himself” (or herself, or indeed, itself) with the wider picture. Failing that, one might choose to “sit” the next one out.

“Who else is coming? Don’t remind me, I can’t bear it,” Elizabeth said fretfully while Norbert opened and closed his mouth like a goldfish.

“I have an idea!” she announced suddenly, standing up and crushing a mince pie that had rolled under her desk. “Gather round, come on, come on!”

Arona Haki shuffled in with the dustpan and mop, as Finnley blew her nose loudly and wiped the tears from her eyes. Norbert stood silently, waiting.

“It wouldn’t matter WHO came,” Liz paused for effect, “If none of us were here!”

“But we are here, aren’t we,” remarked Finnley. Norbert and Haki murmured in agreement.

“We are now!” replied Liz, “But we could be gone in an hour! We could go and visit my cousin ~ third cousin twice removed, actually ~ in Australia. They have an old inn and it’s sure to be half empty, it’s in the middle of nowhere, and,” she added triumphantly, “It will be lovely and warm there!”

“Blisteringly hot, more like,” muttered Finnley, “And would they like unexpected visitors for Chri, er Kri, er, that date on the calendar?”

“I’m sure they’d be delighted, “ replied Liz, crisply. “Not everyone is as curmudgeonly about Chri, er, Kri, er that date on the calendar as we are. And anyway,” she added, “If I write it into the story that they are delighted, then they will have no option but to be pleased to see us.”

“If you bloody lot are coming to the Flying Fish Inn, I’m buggering off to Mars for the holidays” said Bert.

Elizabeth spun round, saying sharply, “Bert! Get back to your own thread this instant! The bloody cheek of it, thread hopping like that, really!”

Flora, rising late as was her custom, and feeling the relaxing glow of being on holiday, strolled leisurely out of her bedroom door in search of coffee. As she stepped into the corridor, one of the twins, not watching where she was going, collided with her surprisingly forcefully, knocking her to the ground. She knocked her head on the door frame, felt a rush of noise and the sweet metallic scent of blood before losing consciousness.

“Flora! Miss Fenwick! Oh my god, Flora!” Corrie cried. After getting no reaction from the inert body and seeing the pool of blood spreading alarmingly, she sped off to find Aunt Idle.

As soon as Corrie was out of sight, Prune emerged from the broom cupboard opposite, saw the body on the floor, and ran in the opposite direction in search of Bert.

fred (and his) dear aunt (who wore a ) scarf (looked into the) distance (for) clues (for a) holiday (mere) seconds (before they) sat (on) rene (who was lying on the) floor (which) mysterious led (them to) Stuck Island (which was far) away properties (on a ) busy mystery pink (ocean) (more remote than) expected

“There is a secluded pocket that would be an ideal safe landing spot on the north coast of the Bay of Beliefs” was the message that Downson received from the Magi. “El Refugio; it was a private shamanic holiday camp, but it was abandoned years ago. There are empty cabins and some basic facilities that could be restored and repaired.” And it’s not too far from Karmalott, Downson thought, It will have to do, for now. At least for the first batch of evacuees.

“It’s been years since we ‘ad a bloody ‘oliday Glor, fancy a nice vacation somewhere?”
Sharon and Gloria were watching a documentary about changing landscapes ~ lakes appearing in the desert, islands emerging out of the sea, giant holes appearing in the tundra, rivers coursing along new and unexpected routes and other such things that were appearing with increasing regularity. So much so, in fact, that there was enough material to have a weekly programme on the topic. It was Gloria and Sharon’s favourite show, and they always made a point of sitting down together to watch it.
“Oooh I dunno, Shar, me back’s always playing up these days, what if I ‘ad a bad turn in some foreign place miles from anywhere?”
Sharon nodded in sympathy. “I know what you mean, it’s like me and my night turns. I have to get up in the night and eat ice cream and walk about a bit, bit awkward when you’re away.”
“Like me and my stomach” piped up Mavis, poking her head round the door.
“What oh, our Mavis! Didn’t ‘ear you come in. How about you, fancy an ‘oliday?”
“Wouldn’t dare, not with my stomach, I have to have special foods, and what if I had a trapped wind while I was in a strange place with nowhere to go?”
“Listen to us!” shouted Sharon, suddenly standing up and glaring at her friends. “Just listen to us, will yer? What’s become of us!”
“Age?” asked Mavis drily.
“Are we washed up then, over the hill, is that it, is it? Too old for a bloody holiday? Well, I tell you, I’m not done yet, oh no! I’m going on a holiday, even if I have to go on my own!”
“Calm down, Sha, bit emotional, int yer?”
Sharon sank down onto the sofa again, and replied quietly, “I been thinking about it a lot just lately. Wondering where my get up and go went. We used to do so much more!” She looked imploringly at her friends. “We was always off galivanting and ‘aving adventures.”
“Yeah, and remember what you said after the last one? Never again?” Mavis reminded her.
“I think she’s right,” Gloria piped up. “I think we should give it a go. What’s the worst thing that could ‘appen? And what difference does it make where it ‘appens?”

Much to everyone’s surprise, Boris called an extraordinary meeting for all the villagers. When Adeline had approached him with a proposition that was troubling her, in his infinite wisdom and practicality, he decided that absolute clarity and open discussion was the only solution. The topic of discussion was the trip to the island with Sanso ~ who wanted to go, and who was willing to stay behind to attend to the animals and the gardens and so on. After several hours of talking and the inevitable sidetracking and joking, interruptions to replenish drinks, fetch snacks or cigarettes, or visit the bathroom, it became apparent that everyone wanted to go, some more enthusiastically than others.

“I have had a spontaneous inspiration to go,” said Lisa, “And I am a big believer is spontaneity. But I am also a big believer in responsibility, and can’t be spontaneous and responsible at the same time ~ unless I can offload the responsibility onto another responsible individual for the duration of my spontaneous holiday.”
“So what you’re saying then is that if I don’t stay home to feed the dogs, then I am denying you your right to be spontaneous?” asked Jack.
Lisa frowned. “If you had just offered to do it, Jack, I could have credited myself with simply trusting it to fall into place. Now you are making me complicate it!”

“I have an idea” suggested Etienne, “That might work for everyone. Let us consider that we need allow no time for travel, as teleport travel is instantaneous, and we need not concern ourselves with money, as timetravel is without financial cost. We can all go, as long as we do it in relays. Unlike traditional holidays, where people save up their money, make arrangements regarding leaving their responsibilities, take time to reach a destination, stay at that destination for a certain time period, and then return, we do not need to concern ourselves with any of that. I suggest we split up into two smaller groups and alternate being present on the island, with our presence here in the village.”
“Now who’s complicating it!” remarked Lisa.
“I think it’s a good idea” Adeline piped up, to a general murmur of agreement.

“If I may say a word” Sanso stood up and looked at each of their faces in turn. “I must be making a move tonight. And all I need to know is who will be coming with me. Fanella and Lisa?” They nodded in agreement. “And which of you intrepid fellows will join us? Ivan?” Unused to being noticed, Ivan nodded and blushed. “Good! Then Mirabelle, Igor, Boris and Adeline can be team two. Jack, Etienne and Pierre, you can be on emergency stand by to assist where needed in either location.”
“Does everyone know how to teleport?” asked Mirabelle. “ I mean properly teleport, to the right place at the right time?”
Sanso laughed. “Well, we are about to find out.”

“Shall I call you Fanny instead then, dear? It seems to be stuck in my head now to call you Fanella (which I do think sounds much nicer actually) but I think I can manage to remember Fanny,” suggested Lisa.
“Call me what you like, I won’t be here much longer” replied Fanella under her breath.
“What was that you said?”
“Coffee, Lisa, would you like a refill?”
Lisa’s reply was interrupted by an exclamation from Sanso, and they both turned their attention to him.
“Here it is!” he was saying. “Look! The island!” He pointed to an area of map collage on the mannequins left buttock, and stroked it gently while explaining. “It’s named Abalone ~ by some of its inhabitants, not by everyone, but more on that later. The fascinating thing about it is it’s mysterious properties ~ and I don’t mean real estate, although there are some VERY peculiar properties on the island! But properties that allow it to appear on the Earth only at certain times and places.”
“Times such as 2121?” asked Fanella.
“Yes indeed, and also times such as years 111, 222, 333 ~ in fact any number that has a particular significance really, it’s a very loose arrangement really, you know what some people are like about numbers, make up all kinds of nonsense about special numbers, but it serves a purpose as a sort of guideline, I suppose.”
“You don’t need to tell me all that, Sanso. I’ve already read the book.”
“Circle of Eights and Other Stories? Ahahahaha! But the stories in that book are forever changing, Lisa. You may have read the book but every time you read it, it’s different. You don’t know everything there is to know about that island just because you read one version of the book at one time!”
“I didn’t say I knew EVERY thing, Sanso” Lisa replied huffily.
“That’s where we’re going next” Fanella interjected. “Sanso is taking me.”
“Really? How exciting!” Lisa’s eyes lit up. “What a trip! I’ve been thinking about a holiday ever since we got back from Portugal. Hey, can I come too?”
Sanso stole a glance at Fanella, who shrugged helplessly. He winked at her and whispered “trust me”.
To Lisa he said “I can’t think of anything I’d like more. Is there anyone you’d like to bring with you?”
“Why yes, there is, how funny you should ask. I’ll ask Mirabelle if she wants to come.”
Fanella rolled her eyes.

When Jack had sent Lisa a message to ask if Fanella had joined her and Mirabelle in Portugal, she was worried.
“Mirabelle, Fanella has disappeared, do you know anything about it?” asked Lisa. “Did she say anything to you that might give us a clue? Was she planning on going anywhere, did she have any friends outside the village? I know she homesick for 18th century Paris, but she couldn’t possibly have gone back ~ or could she?”
“Bit of a dark horse, our Fanella,” replied Mirabelle. “Always down by that river on her own, reading that strange old book.”
“Not Circle of Eights and Other Stories!”
“Yes, that’s the one. She was practicing projecting to the places in the book.”
“WHAT?? Mirabelle, there’s no time to lose, we must go back to the village at once. If Fanella has been doing that, she could be anywhere, anywhere at all ~ and the trail will be a hard one to follow!”
“But what about our holiday? And not only that, what about the strange tile that was stolen that we’re supposed to be looking for?”
“The damn tile can wait.” snapped Lisa. “But I haven’t forgotten your arousing arms,” she added, her voice softening. “But we must find Fanella first.”

~~

Lisa was not surprised to find on her return to the village that everything had descended into chaos. She knew that her responsibility belief about her herd tribe had something to do with it, and although she detested the word control, she was well aware of her propensity for monitoring and guiding the creatures and characters in her domain. The lifestyle in the village had relaxed her guidelines about fair play to some extent, but by golly some people were lazy slackers at times. But the one thing that got her goat was being kept in the dark. How could she keep a benevolent control if she wasn’t aware of what was going on? When she found out that Fanella had been making a granite box, and that she was the last to know, she was furious.

“You have such arousing arms, Mirabelle” said Lisa, tipsy from the summer cocktails.
Mirabelle didn’t know whether to roll her eyes or bat her eyelashes. “Fancy a holiday? Just the two of us, somewhere exotic, or perhaps on an island somewhere? I’ve always fancied Corsica, or perhaps a rocky isle off the Amalfi coast.”
“I don’t know what to say” Mirabelle replied. She wasn’t sure what Lisa had planned for her arms.

The whitewashed blue trimmed village by the sea had an air of tranquility despite the abundance of colourful beach dresses and accessories draped outside the shops, and the red and blue parasols shading the cafe tables and chairs. Locals and holidaymakers strolled about, unhurried and relaxed, and the blue sea twinkled enticingly beyond, as if the street disappeared into the ocean. Mirabelle imagined shoppers carrying bags of vacation purchases wandering right into the water, perhaps to continue their strolling on the seabed, idly perusing it’s treasures and trinkets; wandering back out again on to another street somewhere, dripping at first and leaving little puddles in their wake.
I wonder how deep you could go? she wondered, If you could walk on the ocean floor for as long as you liked?
Lisa, however, was more interested in the shops and had disappeared into one of them, lured by the gaily coloured scarves. She chose two and held one in each hand, wondering which one would be more reassuring, more comforting. A scarf is something to hold on to in a storm, she thought ~ and then wondered where the thought had come from.

“You have a tentacle hanging down your chin Mirabelle” remarked Lisa, reaching for her camera.
Mirbelle obligingly waited while Lisa took a photo, though she was not at all sure why she wanted a picture of it.
“I don’t know anything about holidays. Are holidays about eating tentacles on the beach, then?” she asked.
“Well, they can be about that yes, but not entirely. There are lots of things to do on holidays” replied Lisa.
“Like what? Why do people have holidays?”
“A short break from working every day usually, although people who don’t work take holidays too. For a change of scenery, and a rest. Although holidays aren’t always about rest ~ some people get very little rest and walk all day, or cycle or something. People in colder climates often want a holiday in the sun, and people who live inland often want a holiday by the sea. In fact” Lisa continued, “Some people spend all year dreaming about a holiday by the sea, in the sun.”
“If they love the sea and the sun so much, why don’t they just move to the coast then?”
“Well some of us do! Then we go to a city for our holiday, because it’s different I suppose.”
“So a holiday is a for a change, then? Because people like a change?”
“Only if it’s a holiday, I mean, people usually resist change ~ unless it’s a holiday.”
“But if you changed something at home and didn’t go anywhere else, would that be a holiday?”
“Only if you had time off work, otherwise it wouldn’t be a holiday.”
“But if you changed something at work, wouldn’t that be a holiday?”
“Well no not really, that kind of change usually pisses people off.”