The holiday that was.

So our holidays are over.

We are home and with the benefit of hindsight, it was kind of like an episode of Fawlty Towers.

Or maybe, as suggested by my friend, Mrs Ceee Ceee, an episode of a Japanese reality TV show.

The warning signs were there. In fact, on the way to the airport, my mum said “I have a feeling you aren’t meant to take this trip”. Can’t get much clearer than that. I should have listened to her.

It started with not being able to get on the boat, as we had planned all along. Then Husband was delayed with work and not being able to fly with us, having to arrive three days later. Then all the issues with my laptop, which left me distracted and ultimately, disorganised.

But we got there.

Christmas passed quietly. It was hard, it always is, being away from my family; but Poss could not have been happier with the gifts Santa left and the smile on her face as she opened her long awaited American Girl Doll made it as special as we could have hoped for.

We headed to Hobart. The hotel was like no where I have stayed before. Some of the highlights included being put in the wrong room closely followed by power points hanging out of the wall, or possibly waiting over two hours for room service. And then another hour the next day. The issues are a blog post in and of itself.

Thankfully Hobart made up for it’s faults; it was the glittering jewel in our holiday crown.

The rest of the holiday passed… uncomfortably. We headed back up to the in-laws, only for Husband to have to fly out the next day, leaving Poss and I there on our own. It was hot, which is bad enough for a house that doesn’t even have a fan, let alone air-conditioning. But then the power went out. For 24 hours. Which on tank water meant no water. No showers. No water.

By that point, the wonderful stoic face Poss had been showing through all of this started to crack. Baby talk returned. Whiny and sooky; tears and pouting. To be honest, I didn’t blame her. If I could have dropped my lip at that point, I probably would have.

When on the last night, I went to check in for our flight only to find it was cancelled, I kind of expected Ashton Kutcher to jump out at me and yell “you’ve been Punked!”.

But no.

Thankfully we were able to get on a late afternoon flight. Or you know, I would have been swimming home.

Never has Melbourne looked so sweet.