The Slob’s Holiday

so i finally booked a ticket out of the blasted cold in ithaca only to land in an equally icy clime. it was an impulse thing, completely no planning whatsoever (as mingsee can attest to). will be mooching about the UK stalking my favourite poets (dead or alive) and perhaps spending a few days in bonn and/or scotland and/or italy, wherever fancy (in the guise of budget flight availability) takes me. IN SOLITUDE, oh blissful solitude. well i suppose i’ll have to meet up with a few kiddos here and there but i foresee you’ll find me parked indoors most of the time scoffing sainsbury profiteroles and watching a slew of chick flicks. while coding. have to take my math research with me, of course. (out of curiosity, how many meals do you think a regular box of profiteroles from sainsbury is equivalent to? i’ll report back when i find out.) while i’m at it i might as well try to find research positions for next summer in the universities there and maybe pop in on a few art museums. since i’m on holiday i would like the right to be as old and as uncontactable as i like, doing sedentary, old-ish things and none of that pretense at youth that is so demanded for at college.

Hate planning holidays. i need someone to do this sort of thing for me so i can just leech on. Here is the ideal slob’s holiday:

I don’t want to make new friends on holiday; I can barely manage the ones I have at home. I don’t want to mix with the locals and I have no wish to go into their homes. I do not welcome tourists who come to Singapore into my home. Why should poor locals in Holidayland be expected to? Isn’t it bad enough that we monopolise their beaches, clog their pavements and spend an hour in a shop choosing a sunhat that costs the equivalent of 75 cents?

So the slob’s holiday has several essential requirements: a hotel on a sandy beach, a balcony, good food, a warm sea, nightlife for the teenagers, a big crowd to get lost in, and an absence of mosquitoes. It’s so tiring applying that repellent. At the planning stage, all the holiday brochures are full of references to ‘hospitable locals’, ‘folk nights’, ‘deserted beaches’ and ‘interesting historical sights’. If i see another cathedral i just might stab myself.

Not my cup of tea, or glass of sangria, at all. (oh yes. Legal drinking age <21 pls.) We slobs of the world must unite (if we can find the energy). We have nothing to lose, except our torpor.

If you are in town and if you think I'll want to meet up with you (oh misguided youth), hit me back.

***post script. what’s up with the currency elitism, my darling chancellor of the exchequer? (yes i’m sorry that pun was intended ‘twas a nasty un wasn’t it) (hq shld read this he’d be so proud that i know even one british mp w/o him telling me haha) in case you haven’t noticed, the pound is so weak it’s almost equivalent to the euro now, so why don’t you get off your high horse and globalise already.
how much of my credit d’you think is going to be devalued in the conversion to pound to euro to pound and back to USD?

clearly the only solution is buy a truckload of overpriced touristy crap that will boost the british economy over dec-jan so the pound will regain its strength by the time i fly back and convert whatever remains of queen elizabeth and edward elgar.

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