Bank Holidays, eh? The eagerly anticipated long weekends when you can guarantee everything will go pear-shaped. The weather is so inevitably awful that even the newscasters state “Well, it’s the Bank Holiday” with wry acceptance. ‘Plans’ are a misnomer that should really be acknowledged as simply ‘wishful thinking’. Between the weather and the inevitable travel chaos, like lemmings thousands attempt to migrate only to find themselves stuck immobile for hours due to road/rail works, accidents, volume of traffic, strikes and the odd act of gods, who are obviously a bit pressed for something to do on the Bank Holiday themselves.
Personally, I had plans to work at the weekend. Not my preferred Bank Holiday pursuit but a necessary opportunity that could not be ignored. I was due to be trading at a Battle Re-enactment event in Welwyn for the whole weekend (thus scuppering my DH’s plans by leaving him with the children). I duly arrived on Friday afternoon, having managed to visit my Mum en route and got set up in good time. I’d been feeling a bit ropey in the morning and as evening set in and the air started to cool significantly, my throat started to close up. The forecast for Saturday was not good and the prospect of camping out in the cold and imminent wet seemed foolish, so I threw my bedding back in the car and headed home leaving my colleague holding the fort. Just as well, since by the time I got back home my vocal chords had decided I was in fact a goose and the only sound escaping my throat was some distressed honking.
I spent Saturday in bed.
Sunday dawned a little brighter and much drier and I was able to speak, well, croak intelligibly again. I decided that it would probably be a mistake to camp out that night though so decided to go up for the day with a view to returning home in the evening and either returning on Monday or, if it was a poor turnout, packing up permanently. I took the children with me, so DH was off the hook and free to pursue his plans. It was a better day, but not exactly bustling and something of a constant battle between the tent and the wind made it rather tiring. We decided to pack up and by the time I returned home so had my voice.
Monday was mostly uneventful. The weather wasn’t brilliant so I doubt we missed out on a great day’s trading. I spent some more time in bed and a little time in the pub (a leisurely lunch) and the rest watching TV (both parts of Going Postal mainly).
All in all, though not great, not the worst Bank Holiday weekend, but true to type, the weather was fairly dreadful and all previous plans were null and void.