I don’t know about you, but once I book a trip to any destination that involves a flight, train or automobile, I tend to have all these aspirations to be the best, healthiest version of myself while away from HQ. My basic strategy is to eat things that are so good for me; I will return home glowing of vitamins and minerals. I make plans to partake in whatever exercise and well-being activities the hotel has on offer, as well as a 2k swim first thing in the morning, every morning. Naturally, I will also go to sleep at a reasonable hour for a full 8 hours and wake up at sunrise a gloriously motivated person.
None of the above has yet been achieved on any holiday I’ve been on.
What actually ends up happening is that I start my morning with a glass of champagne, three pastries, too much streaky bacon, and a token slice or two of watermelon to tick off the health piece. I then park myself on a sun lounge for about 4 hours, hoping to finish at least one whole book during my time in the sun, but give up hope about four pages in because my concentration levels are non-existent, and in my hopes and dreams of being a well-rounded holiday person, I bring a book far too heavy or far too educational for my frame of mind. Instead, I stare at whatever body of water is in front of me and continuously seek for my glass of rosé to be topped up. The only forms of exercise that take place each day are a dip in the sea or pool (whichever is closest) to cool off and a trip to the loo to make space for more rosé.
On one family holiday, I made it beyond the sun lounge and took the kid to one of the advertised mummy-and-baby yoga sessions. After 10 minutes of which, mummy remembered she doesn’t like yoga and would much prefer to eat chips by the pool and made an excuse to leave mid-session, blaming the kid.
Currently, on a secluded hilltop in the Gulf of Naples, I am on my third cup of Turkish coffee, the effects of which induce palpitations similar to the kind I imagine I could achieve at the available gym, but thus far, I have only walked past it with a promise to myself that tomorrow will be the day I put on a shoe other than a flip-flop and try and operate machinery to better oneself.
Maybe if I hit the sauna, I could feel like an effort has been made toward my healthy holiday ambitions. Maybe instead, I should brush my teeth- it is 11.56 am after all.
My iPhone tells me I did 483 steps yesterday. The weekly average is not much better. The likelihood of this getting closer to my 11,000 daily at-home average is slim to none. Not only because I genuinely cannotbefuckingarsed, but also because it’s 32c, and the hill is rather steep. I don’t think I’ll make it back up without hitching a ride from an ambulance.
I guess I’ll sit the health plans out for yet another holiday and Ocado Zoom some chia seeds when I get home. (I won’t).
CREATIVE NOTES 