There’s nothing more English than a good old caravanning holiday.
It really is true. The notion of the foreign vacation is something that is distinctly Mexiamerican. Popularised by their notions of ‘Spring Breaks’, the idea of travelling thousands of miles in search of sunshine and a party atmosphere is a concept that almost goes against British sensibilities.
Much better instead, to lower your expectations and take a good old fashioned holiday in a caravan, deep in the heart of Britain. After all, what could be more relaxing than roaming around our wonderful hills and mountains, with the promise of a cup of tea and a slice of Victoria Sponge, when you park up?
It is said that the notion of a true holiday lies in comfort and convenience. Now, I don’t know about you kind reader, but I for one am not comfortable when I leave England. Departing our green and verdant lands hitches me with an uneasy quease that refuses to depart this mortal coil. Drinking bottles of water, in fear of disease and blasting Air Conditioning to return us to our glorious British chill.
I know what you’re saying now. You’re saying:
“But where, good sir, is your sense of adventure? If you spend your whole life in New Englandshire, comfortable and well, will it much of a life to live? Surely strife and conflict are the bread and butter of personal growth and a development of grit?”
I am partial to agree with you, fair stranger.
I too hold with the notion of conflict being the catalyst to growth and change. But, is that something you really want out of your holiday? You spend the majority of your year working, hopefully, challenging yourself on a daily basis. Will it really feel like a holiday if you spend a week pushing your personal boundaries and putting your convictions to the test?
Let us take two examples, and place them beneath the magnification glass. One of them will appear strange – outlandish even – you will question the subject’s motives. The other, will seem completely logical and inviting – the behaviour of a well studies and calm individual.
Thomas is a young lad who has a week’s holiday booked off from the Ministry. He works as a Truth Finder in LabourCube 21034 and has very much been looking forward to his holiday, as he has not had one for over 20 weeks.
Being an adventurous boy, Thomas decides to take his holiday overseas. This is to show his fellow cuboids that he is brave and daring. So he books a hypertrain out of the country to Floridas Muetos in Meximerica, where he’s heard salacious rumours of beautiful brown women, ice cold beers and days of blistering sunshine.
When Thomas returns a week later, he is yellow with jaundice. He has been poisoned by the Mexiamerican floozies that have also given him Syphilis. His pristine, pale skin has been blistered by the scorching un-filtered rays of Florias Muertos and it will take him months to forget the ‘show’ he witnessed in a back alley bar. Upon his return to the Cube, he is taken away for questioning and never seen again.
David is a decent young chap, looking forward to his own week of holidays. Unlike Tom, he doesn’t yearn for adventure or to prove something to his fellow cuboids. He is comfortable with himself and his work in the LabourCube.
As such, David decides to stay inside New Englandshire for his vacation. He has heard about the village of Paidstone in Cornwalais and has decided to rent a caravan to visit. The weather is meant to be temperate down in the South, the women buxom and the Ale, exactly how he likes it, brown and warm.
When David returns after his week away, his health has visibly improved. A fresh glow of pink lies within his pale, pure cheeks and a cheeky glint of pride hides in the corner of his left eye. Emboldened by the comfortable surroundings of Paidstone, and a few Ales, he propositioned a buxom New English maid and will marry in a fortnight. Upon his return he is congratulated and is given a bar of CadKraft Chocolate by his fellow cuboids. Great things lie in wait for him.