It was a blessing that the holiday after Mum's funeral was to a place I know well and with Janine, who I obviously know well, and so it didn’t require much gumption or intrepid spirit as I think they would have been in short supply this year.
What a total bollock of a start though, for me to leave the UK feeling physically fine, to travel fine, get to the hotel fine, sit on the bed fine – and to then stand up and put my back out majorly.
Long story short, I could barely shuffle one foot in front of the other for much of my favourite-Sawgrass-Mills-best-day-of-the-year, and had the ignominious debate with J as to whether a mobility scooter might be needed. As I would have crawled on my hands and knees (and nearly had to) to avoid that, we still managed to shop, with Sherpa Capon carrying all the purchases, as I trailed along behind her, eating Naproxen like Smarties.
And yes, for the first time ever, I did have to go see a Miami doctor, cough up a few hundred bucks for the pleasure and leave Walgreens pharmacy with a pile of Diazepam that would have had an impressive street value I suspect. But by hook and crook (as it was also the wettest Miami visit in 20 years) we had a good time there. Margaritas definitely help cure many ills.
And then it was off to the Bahamas where we’d booked a brilliant 2 bed villa on Paradise Island. I was feeling a bit poo as we’d had to cancel the big trip highlight to see the swimming pigs (yes, pigs) in the Exumas, as there was no way Jose that a 2 hour speedboat ride in each direction was possible for my badly behaved back.
But all was not lost. We blagged two places on an already full trip to nearby Rose Island, and swimming with porkers was indeed achieved. They were well looked after, no silliness like kids trying to ride them, and ours was the sole boat there each day – so just the fun of watching some whacking great pigs and some baby piglets, swimming up and down in perfect turquoise water for food rewards.
Add in a great beach close to our gaff, our own terrace and loungers and our first Caribbean Airbnb foray was a top success. Our nearest lovely strip of sand may have been unfortunately called Cabbage Beach but it was a cracker.
One last mini disaster was us landing into LHR and me being unable to locate my phone. Guessed I must have left it in Nassau airport, in my haze of drugs. Cue Sunday afternoon buying a replacement at the O2 store and me having to return there in a sweat twice on Mon morning to get the SIM up and running. £500 poorer by now, but at least I had a working phone for Casablanca.
Now what emotion was I meant to feel when a day later I got an email from J saying she’d just unpacked her bags and found my ‘lost’ phone in the side pocket of her newly purchased Kate Spade handbag?!!
Aaarrrrggh……….
But, hiccoughs aside, it was a much needed trip and fingers crossed we can do it all again (well, maybe not the phone bit..) next year x