Ciaran Murtagh is on holiday

 

Hello guys. I’m on holiday. I’m on my first holiday in AGES. This year, since January, I’ve home schooled two children, written three books, written thirty five episodes of television and head written a lot more. I’m exhausted. So I’m on holiday. Sorry.

Now some people might argue that I should have planned that and written a blog. Well to those people I say:

 

What do you think this is?

 

It’s a blog about me being on holiday. 

Right now I might be drinking a beer, shouting at my 7 year old or hiding from the rain under a tree. I might be having a great time, a rubbish time or still be a sleep. It doesn’t matter! I’m on holiday.

You should try it – it’s ace. Well, it probably won’t be ace, I’m in Wales. It’ll be FINE. Let’s settle for FINE. And I’m not saying that because I want to annoy Welsh people. I’m saying that because I’ve holidayed here over 30 times before, in this exact same spot and it’s always FINE.

There’s a pub in the local village that turns the lights off at 9.30 whether you’ve finished drinking or not. It’s that kind of place.  They don’t stock draught ale because they don’t get enough custom and they don’t understand why. That’s where I’m heading.

The only shop is attached to a garage. They complain when the non-locals buy the bread, despite the fact the garage is opposite a HOLIDAY PARK. I once suggested they buy more bread in peak season and they looked at me like I’d just invented another language.

But I don’t care about that. Take my money for your over inflated ice creams. Watch me fumble in the rain as I feed coins into your prehistoric parking machines. Rinse me at every turn while simultaneously begrudging my presence. Look at me like a Guardian reading wet wipe for asking if I can swap my chips for salad.

I’m on holiday. See you next month.