When I said that to my husband he said 'well not really, there's still the weekend'. To which I say 'huff'.
A weekend is not a holiday. A weekend is a weekend. And it can't be counted as part of a holiday because you have to share it with other people.
The joy of a holiday is getting up late and feeling smug because the majority of the world are already at work. The joy of a holiday is cracking open a bottle of bubbles at 5pm while people are stuck in rush hour traffic.
The joy of a holiday is going for a walk to the shops at any time of the day and enjoying the fact that people might think you're a big old dole bludger (which I personally have nothing against so long as you're trying to find a job) while you're secure in the knowledge that you pay a shite load of tax every month.
The joy of a holiday is having fish n chips with a beer for lunch. Which is EXACTLY what I'm going to do today to commemorate the last day of my divine holiday.
Oh and I took a picture of my dwarf dahlias this morning before the bees started buzzing furiously about them (trust me, the bees aren't disappearing they're just all living at my place) ... aren't they pretty?
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