Column – on the mini-break

Last week, Charlie and I went on holiday to Wales. I say ‘holiday’, it was more of a short, ‘mini-break’. Now, when I think of the phrase, mini-break, I tend to think; headscarves, sunglasses, open top cars rushing up mountain roads and sun – shining all the time.

This view point and idealism, has clearly been formed by films. Going back a decade, Bridget Jones does an obvious nod to the audience about THE mini-break. I first read about the harangues of Bridget when I was a teenager, and though in love with romance and the idea of love, back then I had no real yearning for the ‘mini-break’ with a boy. I’d rather have gallivanted about with a group of friends in Southern France, or moshed around, bathed in glitter at a festival. But now I get it. The whole thing.

Not only am I in some ways jealous that Bridget was able to get a full time job as a reporter, seemingly with ease (must mention), but I also understand the wonder of the mini-break. Not just because of Charlie existing, in fact really not in the same way as Bridge referred to the MB at all.

Charlie and I have been together nearly five years, so it’s not about really grasping that honeymoon period and scattering it with petals and champagne in a thatched lodge. I also wouldn’t see him sweeping me off as a sign that he thinks I am a keeper. We have a cat now.

That said, I wouldn’t say that I am averse to champagne cottages – not petals – and I do believe that you shouldn’t settle for i-player nights as soon as you’re a day over the (classic?) six months of lust. Rambling, sorry – in short, we needed a break and to spend time together.

Obviously we have very limited funds, so we couldn’t go to Texas, as I had hoped to do. I know, Texas right? I really want to go there. Or the island of Tahiti would do. So, we went to the next best thing that is, Wales. There we camped next to a 1300s house for a bargain price, drank cheap wine, ate scones, cycled, Charlie surfed, read, argued a bit, danced in the car and tent, trawled antique shops, drank coffee, chatted to the ducks, shooed the chickens, got drenched in the rain and sun basked. Brilliant.

Mainly we spent time together, which sometimes we sort of forget to do. The days are longer and more packed when you go away from the intense cycles of everyday life. The idyllic visions of the future become a realistic prospect when you finally chill out and get perspective on what you want. Once again, I decided that we should open a cafe on the beach. I can see it all, the vision is perfect. Definitely – when we’re a bit older – that’s what we’ll do.

from Bristol 24-7 (I’m going to have to say, please note – I did not write the title to this post on the website. It contradicts my point!)


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