Feeling sheepish
With Anglo-Scots relations fragile following Andy Murray’s heroic failure at Wimbledon, I set about restoring trust when Jayne Scott – formerly of Sands and now representing Getabed – called in.
Jayne and I hadn’t seen each other for a couple of years, so we decided that a catch-up over lunch was required.
I joked that I didn’t fancy her national dish of haggis and that I’d even had difficulty watching the cookery programme Come Dine With Me when it featured a recipe named ‘The Flying Scotsman’ comprising a chicken breast stuffed with whisky-soaked haggis and wrapped in bacon.
Those Anglo-Scots relations were suddenly jeopardised as Jayne argued that this dish is actually called a ‘Chicken Chieftain’. I said that frankly, no matter what it was called, I’d bet it was ‘offal’.
I’d been through this love affair with sheep’s intestines before with Jayne when we ended up in Madeira for Burns Night one year.
She had the onerous job of addressing the haggis in that peculiar ritual designed, I presume, to bestow an air of mystery and desirability upon animal innards.
As part of her address, we were obliged to memorise the words to Flower of Scotland before being allowed to sit down. Let me tell you, when the Drambuie’s flowing and the whisky’s out the jar, that is no mean feat.
It was lovely to see Jayne and hear the comings and goings of mutual friends and, in an uncanny piece of synchronicity, the next day brought Jayne’s daughter Jane to our door.
Agents may know Jane from her own days at Sands as Jane Dowdell. These days she’s Jane Coleman working for The Holiday Team and she’d come to teach us about its website for agents, which is so quick and easy to use that even I managed to look half competent on it.
I told Jane that I’d had lunch with her mother and she was immediately curious to hear of what she’d been up to in her wild past. I’ve told her that my lips are sealed – she’ll have to wait for my memoirs to be published.
A law unto themselves
With all those laws from the EU banning wonky bananas and long bus journeys, I thought I might make up a law of my own to make my life easier.
It would forbid one partner from researching and booking a holiday without the other partner present. I might throw in a lie detector test at the start, too.
The case I base my proposition on is as follows: An unassuming young man came into my premises with the honourable intention of buying himself and his lady companion a pleasant excursion abroad, to last but a week with a two-day departure opportunity.
“Not a problem,” I said brightly. I offered a number of possibilities, including one with Holiday Options to Sardinia which he seemed keen on. He eagerly rang his girlfriend to relay the information. I watched his face mutate from excitement to disappointment.
“She can’t go that day,” he said.
I persevered and came up with a new selection, departing on the day she claimed she could travel on. He rang again. Hushed murmurings ensued. He ended the call and looked up at me.
“She can only go for six days now.”
I’m competitive. I offered easyJet flights and accommodation for six nights.
“Third time lucky,” I joked as he took out his mobile again.
It’s a good job the lad’s a plasterer because he’d never make it as an actor. His face told me immediately that they wouldn’t be travelling.
“She’s going to look at the hotel on the internet and we’ll let you know,” he said, blushing.
I felt sorry for him. And for me. But I’m used to time wasters. I really hope he gets a holiday this summer but something tells me it won’t be with her…
Cosmic connection
There’s a new and literally ‘out-of-this-world’ wedding experience on the market. For just over £1 million couples can get married in space, courtesy of a Japanese firm and its small ‘space vessel’.
Due to start operating in 2011, the flights will last an hour, during which time the couple will be able to exchange vows in zero gravity.
It might be tricky to kiss the bride but, hey, it sounds like the earth will move.
Maureen Hill works at Travel Angels, Gillingham, Dorset