To the Lighthouse: A Hot Holiday Tale
I’m sorry I didn’t post much last week–I was on holiday. Nice, relaxing, lovely lovely holiday away from Poowich and the daily grind. A romantic holiday with my husband…and his family.
Scene: Jet-setting stylish red-lipped expat off to the french seaside in a fabulous hat!
On the first day, I was under the impression that we were all going to the beach. You know the beach–that lovely place with sun, sand, and ocean breezes located 5 minutes from our hotel?
Well, it’s super close by, I thought as I prematurely pulled on my swimsuit under my dress, slapped on my flip-flop torture devices, and popped some light beach reading in my tote bag (1500 pages of 19th century Russian literature about war and peace).
It was hot as hell, my bangs obviously frizzing off my forehead, but I knew it was okay because we were just 5 minutes away from the cool cool salty water at the charming lovely beach. I saw it, it was in my grasp, at my finger tips! And then suddenly, the group made a right turn. Away from the beach.
‘Where are we going?’ I asked with trepidation.
‘To the lighthouse,’ they all said.
After I had been stumbling down the scorching paved breezeless path for nearly a mile, I saw this lighthouse in the distance. The very very far far away distance. Like miles and miles away.
As the afternoon sun beat down on my lily white back, it slowly dawned on me that earlier when we were all waiting around in a cafe for hours and hours with no one eating–that was lunch. There would not be another opportunity for sustenance. That was it.
I gazed wistfully at everyone else’s sneaker clad feet as I flip-flopped around in pools of my own blood.
I attempted to feign laughter and conversation (some might claim I didn’t hide my dissatisfaction very well but that’s obviously total bollocks), all the while hoping that a piano would just miraculously fall on my head and end it all.
5.5 miles later, we rocked up to the goddamn lighthouse. I guess. I don’t know. I couldn’t see anything through the mingled sweat and tears blinding my eyeballs.
Ah but refreshment was in sight!
A warm, iceless European Diet Coke.
Happy Summer Holidays!
I think this Weekes Word is simply beautiful, unlike me when I am hot and dying.
Rime: from Old English ‘hrim’ (Germanic) revived at the end of the 18th century and meaning frost. It can also be used as a verb–as in to cover [an object] with hoarfrost. Ex: As Weekes made her way to the lighthouse in the midday sun, she dreamed of her body being rimed from head to toe.
xWG // #dazeandweekes
Winter-Maker 
That “lighthouse” picture…. I’m dying!
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I assume you didn’t get much of War and Peace read?
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Not a whole heap! I’m about 40 pages in. Have you finished???
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Noooooo! Whyyyyy? Why would people want to go walking in the crippling death rays of the afternoon sun? Why did they not take one look at your carefully-curated Audrey-esque beach outfit and send you to the beach when the paths forked? It seems this tragedy could so easily have been prevented… Oh, and I’ve gone right off lighthouses now, too. 😆
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Whhhhhhhhy??? I mean, yes, I am a particularly huge wuss when it comes to being hot and exercising and I like to just not be moving and enjoying cool drinks and foods and breezes and water and shade and really just autumn or I’d prefer a mid-winter Yorkshire holiday, if I’m perfectly honest but…there were children and pregnant family members present so, I had to nobly power through as a supposed able-bodied somewhat-youthful adult. I have learned from my experience, though and will henceforth always be prepared for an epic trek, even if it makes no sense, and will substitute snacks and first aid kit in for relaxing holiday literature.
But I don’t want to traumatise you away from nice lighthouse experiences! I’m sure your and EB’s journey to the lighthouse would have been much more tolerably temperature-d …. and he’s always got the right kit for a job, thanks to you 🙂
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Ahhh, nobody in flip-flops is truly able-bodied. In my first year of living in Dublin, I once walked from my suburban halls of residence into town and back again in flip-flops… I’ve never made THAT mistake again. And I haven’t worn a flip-flop since, either! Alright then, the lighthouse trip is back on… Although maybe we’ll wait for next winter before we go. It is getting dangerously warm out there these days!
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Hahaha so very true. I attempt the flip-flop about once a decade, always coming to the same painful, bloody conclusion. Who invented those things? My mother never let me wear lovely comfortable Birkenstocks (‘those are for people who do drugs!’), but I guess now that I’m (sort of) an adult, I could finally invest in a pair! Is it really getting warmer in Ireland?? Our temps have plummeted again!!!!!
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Hahaha! 😂😂😂 Gotta say, I’ve never associated Birkenstocks with “people who do drugs”… Your mum knows those things are expensive, right? 😀 I’ve had similar issues with reconciling my parents with my beloved Dr Martens boots – “You look like a biker without a bike!” – but the good news is that a level of acceptance has finally been reached. And it only took 15 years! 😀
As for those temperatures… I THOUGHT they were on the up, but that might just have been a combination of fever and a mistaken impression that wearing my winter coat and all my knitted goodies despite said fever would help me to get better more quickly. FALSE! 😆
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Hahaha everything was drugs drugs drugs with her – like, Tori Amos ‘this is the music of drug addicts!’, dark fingernail polish ‘like some druggie!’, wisdom teeth removed from my head ‘no, you can’t take any of those prescribed painkillers, you will become a drug person!’ Siiiiiigh, I so wish I had good a pair of Docs. Mine from high school have union jacks on them, so I’d be way too embarrassed to wear them here! Haha I’m glad your parents finally threw up there hands.
Haha awww poor fevered you! ‘Why do I feel so hot?! Spring!’ Nooooope!
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Ha! You’d probably get further wearing your union jack Docs over there than you would here… That said, I seem to remember passing a rather large Doc Shop in (maybe) Covent Garden a few years ago! (When I say “pass”, I mean “was dragged away after staring in the window for an unholy long time while trying to figure out if I needed a new pair of boots, and how on earth I’d squeeze them into my hand luggage if I did”) Go on, get yourself some drug boots! 😂
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Drug boots! 😂😂😂 my mom is gonna love them!
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