A couple of years ago somebody pointed out to me the way Tesco, that great encourager of consumerism, can help you towards a free holiday. Basically Tesco clubcard points can be stored for upto two years and then transferred for four times their value to be deducted from the price of a Cosmos holiday. And so, tomorrow, courtesy of too much spending at Tesco and just a very small donation into the Cosmos coffers, we're off to Majorca for a week.
When we booked the holiday it seemed like a great idea because we'd get a chance to use the language and a week in the sun when it was still chilly back home. As the holiday approached though we began to wish we hadn't been so hasty - Airmiles for example would have got us to the area of Spain to which we are moving in September. Now though it seems like an ideal chance to not think about moving for a week. To take a whole week off from discussing all the minutiae of moving and the associated emotions. Certainly it is coming to a point now were we realise we will miss our extended family and that we may have a few tough weeks of acclimatisation. The process of relocating to Spain, and I expect this is probably a reflection on the type of character's we are anyway, seems to have taken over every minute of every day. It fills dreams, daytime conversations, conversations with colleagues and friends, and then consumes all our weekend time in preparing in one way or another. It seems a long time ago when at the start of March we got the offer of a teaching post in Spain. The day itself was peculiar. I had two interviews scheduled for the one day. Having interviewed at the first school I then had hours to fill in crossing London for an interview with the second school. In the evening we went out for a meal with family on the banks of the Thames in Staines. By the time half past eight had come I was convinced that the second school, who had told me they would let us know one way or the other before the end of the day, had employed somebody else and were only going to phone if they got around to the 'also rans'. So, when the phone rang at quarter to nine I didn't expect anything positive. Needless to say when I returned to the table having taken the call and delivered the line "we're moving to Alzira" everything became a bit of a blur. There was a general outpouring of different emotions. Laughter, holiday bookings and even tears from Sally's mother who was in Plymouth and I think at the time secretly hoping the move may just be a pipe dream. The last four weeks have been spent wrestling with the aftermath of that moment with our every breath. Those family members concerned about the move seem to have come round more positively. Infact, my in-laws have already booked a holiday in October in the area to which we are moving. More people have pencilled in dates for their trip out to the point where our first visitor is likely to come in the end of August and between then and Christmas we have at least five weeks of visitors.
And so, Majorca, which had seemed like a rash decision is now a welcome break and we have an agreement not to talk about any details of the move at all. To lie by the pool, relax and drink sangria ready to come back refreshed and ready to give the final 15 or 16 weeks the energy they will need.
