Everybody’s settled back to school for the autumn term, consoling themselves with new shoes and pencil cases, and it’s no different for us at Travel Angels.
I am enjoying my new shoes (the only good thing about the last days of summer is the end-of-season sales), and we are all feeling positive and focused. We may not have sharpened our pencils, but our fingers are manicured and poised for action above those keyboards.
To throw a little learning action into the mix, Helen Tate from The One Stop Touring Shop, which incorporates Trafalgar Tours and Insight Vacations, arrived one morning to deliver our first training session of the new term.
She gained our attention and goodwill immediately when she reiterated the company’s commitment to independent agents, and we hung on her every word thereafter.
The companies receive enormous support abroad, and they aim to achieve the same growth in the UK. Having acquainted ourselves with the products, we pledged to do our best to sell them where we can.
When class had finished, it was great to catch up with Helen.
I remembered that she had a little dog with a big attitude, and I asked her how he was doing. It turns out that Jake is now 16 and, although he is blind and deaf with dodgy hips, he is still causing mayhem.
In the past, the mutt savaged a neighbour’s pet rabbit. The poor bunny didn’t survive, despite a large bill that suggested the vet had left no stone unturned in the bid to help it cling to life, and neither neighbour has spoken to the other since.
“Has he been behaving?” I asked, tentatively.
The answer was resoundingly negative. “He killed a baby seagull the other week,” Helen replied.
“It was like a scene from that Hitchcock film The Birds, because all the other seagulls got protective of their young, and that makes them aggressive. I’m lucky I didn’t get my eyes pecked out,” she said.
I asked her where her husband Nick had been while she was enduring the avian trauma.
“Nick was sailing the Atlantic for eight weeks,” she said, breezily.
“He couldn’t wait. What with the dog, the birds, and the long list of jobs I’d drawn up for him, he practically sprinted to that catamaran.”
And while the cat was away, this mouse didn’t get to play. “The boiler blew up and the children killed the goldfish with cheese and onion crisps. I’ve told him the Isle of Wight ferry is where I’ll draw the line in future.”
Wales 1-Mediterranean 0
Chatting to my grandson about our lovely summer holiday, I asked him whether he’d like to return to Greece next year or perhaps try somewhere different. I didn’t bargain on how different.
“A change would be nice,” he said.
“I want to go to Prestatyn.”
“What, Prestatyn in Wales?” I asked, incredulous.
“You mean you don’t want sun-drenched beaches, blue seas and almond groves? What’s Prestatyn got that the Mediterranean hasn’t?”
“Rio Ferdinand,” came the reply.
I was lost for words. For a start, I’d always thought my grandson supported Liverpool (apparently boys’ loyalties can take some time to settle), and second, I wasn’t aware that multi-millionaire defenders holidayed in small, often rainy, Welsh resorts.
How wrong I was. It turned out the Ferdinand family stayed at the Presthaven Sands holiday park. What’s more, they’re not the only celebrity family to have done so. Actor Robert Lindsay and celebrity Jeff Brazier have also taken their families to Haven sites this summer.
“The last time we stayed in a caravan, you asked me why you were sleeping in a cupboard,” I reminded him.
“Hmm,” he replied, before adding dead-pan: “Rio Ferdinand stayed in the Prestige caravan. I think that would be alright for me.”
I’ve agreed that we might opt for a Haven holiday if that’s what he really wanted. I never thought I’d see the day. England will be winning the World Cup next.
Barking mad
We’re often at the receiving end of a misdialled number, and the other day a colleague answered the phone to be asked, “Is that the kennels?”
“No,” came the reply. “But there are a few dogs in here.”
I didn’t find it funny. In fact, it made me barking mad. I’ll get my own back. I’m sharpening my fangs even now, and they don’t call me the Rottweiler for nothing.
Maureen Hill works at Travel Angels in Gillingham, Dorset