Post 279: Useless rest and holiday complications.
Getting up after midday was not the intention, but it was good enough as it happened.
I went to bed at 8:30 pm but wasn’t very tired, but a gulp of oramorph for my head pain was very necessary.
It actually feels like I’ve been whacked on the back of my head with a baseball bat.
I don’t know how it happened, but as I said yesterday, the reasons for these numerous pains are hard to fathom, to be sure.
But this one pain is so painful my back pain is hardly noticeable. What is wrong with me?
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I forgot to say that the other day I was given some fabulous news on the phone, which is that a wedding in late March will bring together a really good pal, Al, and a lovely widow, Sheil.
Now that’s worth putting in my diary and should cheer us all up from all the January blues.
I’m going to have to glug another measure of oramorph. The pain in my head is awful and it’s really hampering my concentration while I type.
But I guess I might be writing foolish gibberish before too long anyway, especially with my dancing finger.
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So much rest and so little benefit from it. But it doesn’t help when I wake up at two in the morning and start to write my blog. However, this is a quiet time of the day and I’ve not got to get up and out tomorrow, so why not stay in bed and recover and stay out of trouble.
Today I text my Darling and offered up a thought of mine to book the holiday today more locally in the newly opened travel agents in town. It would make more logistical sense, and why not frequent a local shop for altruistic reasons?
She jumped at the chance, got showered and hollered at me to get cracking and through the misty rain we went into town and blue-badged a nice parking spot.
We met and exchanged niceties in the freshly painted interior of the travel agents and explained to a friendly staff member where we were and what we wanted. Also asking about the options for the rooms.
To tell the truth, I had an epiphany while looking at a YouTube video showing off of the Mediterranean Palace — the hotel we loved the look of.
However, the guy doing all the chatter in this video gave out, incidentally, the name of the neighbouring hotel — the Cleopatra Palace. This got me thing about price-matching and I lined up and watched another video that popped up, I pressed the button and became familiar with the Cleopatra and, more importantly, the rooms.
This is where the Cleopatra Palace was shown to be a slightly lower-class hotel (it’s looking tired and in need of a big renovation).
So the video showed the rooms, as I already said, and my eyes nearly fell out.
The rooms were adequate and spacious, but the balcony at the front was very large. Large enough for two private loungers and a private splash pool. Yes that right — two loungers and a splash pool. Oh yes, there’s also a shower beside the outside pool.
I had to put my eyes back in their sockets. What a bonus for me that would be.
Talking to the travel agent and my Darling about this video I’d seen earlier, I realised this balcony would be great on the days I’m not feeling fit enough to head down to the pool-side and mix it with the other hotel guests around the big pool below.
We found out we could have half board too, which also might suit us.
To cut a long story short, we had made our minds up about the Cleo and their huge balconies but had to hold off paying at that moment because of the infuriating situation with getting travel insurance.
That was the next step in the process, so we headed home with the happy thoughts of getting another year’s cover, asap.
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That’s where it all went wrong. And after two calls lasting over three quarters of an hour we had the knowledge that an individual holiday insurance is all we could have.
Ok. That’s fine.
What’s not fine is that there’s a need for an underwriter to ring me back to sort out the nitty gritty of the policy — on Monday, in four days’ time.
Crap. And double crap!
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So after ringing back the travel agent with the not-so-good news, we got out of the nice warm kitchen where we had been for the last hour bashing out holiday insurance to the lounge tv. Sadly we left the lovely smell and warmth of the oven baked potato I’m having later for dinner.
You win some, you lose some.
Later on after a few episodes of something or other, and after having my fill of a cheesy jacket, I resumed a comfortable position on the sofa laying up against my Darling — and you’ve guessed it, yep, Mr Vicious laying on my lap — snoring together, apparently.
Good night all.
